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CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II, 


COMPLETE  BOOKS  AND  IMPORTANT  PIECES. 


PAGE. 

RABELAIS,  (Biography) 1 

Personal  Anecdotes 2 

How  Panurge  praiseth  Debtors  and  Borrowers 6 

Why  Mouks  Love  to  be  in  the  Kitchens 10 

The  Fool's  Judgment 11 

The  Secret-Telling  Box 12 

The  Lost  Hatchet 12 

How  Pantagruel  met  with  a  Great  Storm  at  Sea 15 

Rabelais  imitates  Diogenese «...  20 

Epistemon's  Descent  into  Hell 22 

The  Wonderful  Physicians  at  the  Court  of  Queen  Whim 25 

Pantagruelian  Prognostications 25 

The  Four  Seasons  of  the  Tear 28 

THE  COURTSHIP  or  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W ADMAN  .  • 33 

THE  STORT  or  MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT"! 

POLICE  CASE Francis  Cowley  Burnand  ...  91 

>"EAL  MALONK William  Carleton 107 

SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY  (from  the  Spectator) Joseph  Additon 129 

THE  TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUSCHAUSEN  .  R.  E.  Raspe 193 

RIP  VAX  WINKLE  ...        Washington  Irving 256 

THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW Washington  Irving 264 

THE  TURF  (Jorrocks  at  Newmarket) Robert  Smith  Svrteet 289 

JORBOCKS'  HUNT Robert  Smith  SurUet 300 

SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER Oliver  Goldsmith 826 

PAUL  PUT John  Poole 369 

v 


918740 


H  CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II. 

SHORTER  PIECES. 

PAGB. 

Blind  Man's  Buff Horace  Smith 30 

The  Chameleon James  Aterriek  .......  31 

The  Last  of  the  Irish  Serpents Thos.  C.  Oroker 32 

Monsieur  Tonson John  Taylor 72 

The  Vicar  of  Bray Anonymous .  78 

Blucher  and  his  Pipe-Bearer  at  the  Battle  of  Waterloo .  .  Dr.  Michelsen 79 

The  Jackdaw William  Cou-per 7S 

Tim  Price's  Ram Tobe  Rodge ,    .    .  81 

The  First  White  Man  Born  in  Pittsburg Tyrone  Power's 8:? 

Dr.  Johnson's  Pudding Henry  Angela 85 

A  Visit  to  the  Asylum  for  Aged  and  Decayed  Punsters  .  .  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  ....  86 

Tom  Turner Anonymous 90 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Courtship Anonymous 90 

The  Griffin Anonymous 118 

Old  Hobson John  Milton 121 

How  Professor  Pepsine  Lectured  the  Ghost Walter  Thornbury 1  '22 

King  John  and  the  Abbot .    .  From  the  Pern/  Reliques  .    .    .  126 

The  First  Dandy Josh  Billings 178 

Legal  Anecdotes 179 

The  Lawyers  and  the  Cat 179 

Novel  Reply  to  a  Challenge 180 

An  American  Rival  to  Curran 180 

A  "Hung"  Jury 180 

Anecdote  of  General  Cass 182 

How  Long 182 

Wade  and  Giddings 182 

A  Good  Legislative  Story 183 

Guilty— but  Drunk Col.  Bradbury 184 

Related  to  the  Judge 185 

A  Legal  Wag 186 

The  Barrister  and  the  Witness 186 

Metempsychosis , 187 

A  Saucy  Lawyer .  187 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II.  *a 

PAOB. 

Ridicule  versus  Eloquence 187 

Chief  Baron  Pollock 188 

Eldon's  First  Judgment 188 

A  Fertile  Mind 188 

Interesting  Correspondence 189 

Irrepressible 189 

A  Peculiar  Veneration 189 

LegalJokes 189 

The  Lover  and  the  Lap  Dog S.  T.  Coleridge 190 

Bobby's  Trousers Robert  Chambers 192 

The  Little  Hatchet  Story Robert  J.  Burdette 253 

Ben  Block -    ...  TJiomas  Dibden 280 

Mr.  McKenzie  on  the  Tariff  Commission  ...           .    .    .  J.  A.  McKenzie 28*1 

Inflexibility,  or  How  some  Women  Manage Anonymous 284 

Aphorisms Josh  Billings 287 

Nebuchadnezzar  (The  Mule) Irwin  Russell 288 

The  Country  Squire Dom  Tamos  Triarte 316 

The  Bear  and  the  Monkey Dom  Tomas  Yriarte  .    .       .    .  317 

The  Dead  Alive Pierre  Jean  de  Beranger  ...  317 

The  Kinj:  of  Yvetot Pierre  Jean  de  Beranger  .    .    .  318 

The  Happy  Man , Gilles  Menage 319 

Schnapps Selber 319 

Song  for  Punch  Drinkers      Schiller 820 

Rhine  Wine Matthias  Claudius 320 

Winter Matthias  Claudius 321 

The  Hen Matthias  Claudius 821 

Might  and  Right Pfeffel 321 

A  Tragic  Story Chamisso 322 

The  Drunkard's  Conceit Hcrr  v.  MuUer 322 

In  Praise  of  Sleep Passeroni 322 

Uncle  Dan' 1  and  the  Steamboat Mark  Twain  and  Dudley  Warner  368. 

The  Scriptural  Panoramist Mark  Twain 328 

The  Height  of  the  Ridiculous Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  ....  360 

How  many  Fins  has  a  Cod Judge  T.  C.  Halibttrton ....  361 

A  Report  from  Below Thomas  Hood.  .                      .  399 


nil 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II. 


THE  RACONTEUR.  (YARNS.) 


A  Sharp  Student 29 

A  Condensed  Novel 32 

An  Ignoramus  and  his  Library  ....  71 

A  Couple  of  Bad  Boys 74 

A  Brevet  Horse 74 

The  Trovers 75 

A  Successful  Trick 75 

Don't  talk  till  ye  see  Flynn 76 

The  Penny  ye  meant  to  Gi'e 76 

Candor 76 

How  he  stopped  Chewing 77 

A  Brief  Courtship 80 

The  Philosopher  and  the  Ferryman.  .    .  80 

An  Irresistible  Appeal •  80 

Logic  (or  the  Horse  Chestnut)    ....  82 

Joe  Hatch 83 

The  Rival  Broom  Makers 86 

The  Jackass'  Address 106 

Sure  Cure  for  Pride 107 

Doing  Her  Part 120 

Compliments 128 

A  Desirable  Horse ,  128 


PACM. 

At  the  Piano 128 

A  Banker's  Wit 178 

Curious  Marriage  Ceremony 191 

Flustered 192 

Deacon  Dodd 253 

A  Queer  Poet 254 

A  Musical  Duel 255 

A  Seasonable  Philanthropist 255 

A  Rejected  Manuscript 279 

A  Distinction 279 

A  Conscientious  Epitaph 283 

An  Unfriendly  Question 288 

An  Experienced  Shopper 288 

OCR  AMERICAN  CHARLES  LAMB  ....  325 

A  Parrot  Story 325 

The  Rat  Story 325 

Travers  and  Clews 325 

Travers  on  Fisk  and  Gould  ...  325 

An  Awkward  Compliment 356 

Jimmy  Butler  and  the  Owl 357 

Kicked  by  a  Mule 368 

He  Didn't  Know  the  Court .  .  398 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PORTRAITS.    (Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  Sterne  and  Sidney  Smith) Frontispiece. 

READING  RABELAIS Page  17 

SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON'S  COURTSHIP "90 

JOSEPH  JEFFERSON  AS  RIP  VAN  WINKLE "  2o7 

JOHN  L.  TOOLE  AS  TONY  LUMPKIN  IN  "SHE  STOOLS  TO  CONQUER."  ....      "337 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

WIT  AND   HUMOR. 


RABELAIS. 

[FBANCOIS  RABELAIS  was  born  in  1483  (or  according 
io  some  biographers,  in  1495),  at  Chinon,  a  small  town 
in  Touraine,  France.  His  father,  who  combined  the 
cultivation  of  a  small  farm,  of  which  he  was  the  owner, 
with  the  business  of  an  apothecary,  gave  his  son  the 
best  educational  advantages.  At  an  early  age  Francois 
was  sent  as  a  pupil  to  the  abbey  of  Seully,  and  thence 
to  the  University  of  Augers.  Here  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Jean  (afterwards  Cardinal)  Du  Bellay,  to 
whose  friendship  he  was  subsequently  much  indebted. 
At  the  request  of  his  father,  Rabelais  entered  the  priest- 
hood, becoming  first  a  brother  of  the  Franciscan  con- 
vent of  Fontenay  le  Comte,  in  1519.  He  now  began  to 
display  that  enthusiasm  for  study  which  made  him  per- 
haps the  most  erudite  man  of  his  age.  His  studies  em- 
braced the  whole  range  of  the  sciences,  especially 
medicine,  and  a  mastery  of  the  Latin,  Greek,  Italian, 
Spanish,  German  English,  Hebrew,  and  Arabic  lan- 
guages. His  learning,  however,  provoked  the  jealousy 
and  hatred  of  the  monks,  who  suspected  that  his 
Greek  wag  a  cover  for  heresy.  On  one  occasion,  in 
1523,  his  cell  was  searched  for  suspicious  books,  and  to 
avoid  severer  persecution  he  fled.  His  wit  and  learn- 
ing having  gained  him  influential  friends,  he  obtained 
by  their  exertions  a  papal  indulgence  authorizing  his 
transfer  from  the  order  ot  St.  Francis  to  that  of  St. 
Benedict,  upon  which  he  became  an  inmate  of  the 
monastery  of  Maillezay.  Here  his.  condition  appears 
to  have  been  little  improved ;  for  after  a  few  years  he 
abruptly  quitted  the  monastery  without  ecclesiastical 
sanction.  In  1530,  he  settled  at  Montpellier,  and,  tak- 
ing a  degree  in  medicine  at  the  University,  was  ap- 
pointed a  lecturer  therein.  At  Lyons,  whither  he 
went  as  hospital  physician  in  1532,  he  published  several 
works  on  medical  science,  archaeology,  jurisprudence, 
etc.  In  1534,  he  accompanied  Du  Bellay  to  Rome,  as 
travelling  physician.  He  obtained  from  Pope  Paul  III. 
on  the  occasion,  a  remission  of  the  penalties  attached 
to  his  monastic  misdemeanor,  with  permission  to  return 
to  the  order  of  St.  Benedict.  He  continued,  however, 
to  practice  medicine  at  Montpellier  and  elsewhere  until 
1538,  when  he  became  canon  of  Du  Bellay's  abbey  of 
St.  Maur  de»  Fosses,  near  Paris.  On  Cardinal  Du  Bel- 
lay's  loss  of  influence,  Rabelais  at  first  shared  the  ef- 
VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


fects  of  his  disgrace,  but  afterwards  received  from  the 
Cardinal  of  Lorraine  the  curacy  of  Meudon,  which  he 
held  until  his  death.  He  is  said  to  have  been  exem- 
plary in  life,  profuse  in  charity,  and  sedulous  in  the 
relief  of  suffering.  Some  wrote  that  Rabelais  died  at 
Meudon;  but  Dom  Pierre  de  St.  Romuald  says,  that 
Dr.  Guy  Paton,  Royal  Professor  at  Paris,  who  was  a 
great  admirer  of  Rabelais,  assured  him  that  he,  himself, 
caused  him  to  be  brought  from  his  cure  to  Paris,  where 
he  lies  buried  in  St.  Paul's  Church  yard,  at  the  foot  of  a 
great  tree  still  to  be  seen.  He  died  in  a  house  in  the 
Street  called  La  Hue  des  Jardins,  in  St.  Paul's  Parish  at 
Paris  about  the  year  1553,  aged  seventy  years. 

The  following  is  his  Epitaph  written  by  his  content* 
porary.Bai/: 

Pluton,  prince  du  noir  Empire, 
Ou  les  tiens  ne  rient  jamais, 
Recois  aujourd'huy  Rabelais, 
Et  les  tiens  auront,  de  quoy  rire. 


The  scientific  works  of  Rabelais  are  for- 
gotten ;  but  bis  romance  of  Gargantua  and 
Pantagruel  ranks  as  one  of  the  world's  mas- 
terpieces of  humor  and  grotesque  invention. 
"  In  the  form  of  a  sportive  and  extrava- 
gant fiction,  it  is,  in  fact,  a  satirical  criti- 
cism of  the  corrupt  society  of  the  period, 
the  prevalent  follies  and  vices  of  which  are 
parodied  with  surprising  effect  and  ingenu- 
ity." 

"  The  work  of  Rabelais,"  says  Leigh 
Hunt,  "  is  a  wild  but  profound  burlesque 
of  some  of  the  worst  abuses  in  government 
and  religion  ;  and  it  has  had  a  correspond- 
ing effect  on  the  feeling,  or  unconscious 
reasonings  of  the  world.  This  must  be  its 
excuse  for  a  coarseness  which  was  perhaps 
its  greatest  recommendation  in  the  '  good  old 
times,'  though  at  present  one  is  astonished 
how  people  could  bear  it.  Rabelais'  combi- 
nation of  work  and  play,  of  merriment  and 
studv,  of  excessive  animal  spirits  and 
prodigious  learning  would  be  a  perpetual 
marvel,  if  we  did  not  reflect  that  nothing  U 


RABELAIS. 


more  likely  to  make  a  man  happy,  particu- 
larly a  Frenchman,  than  his  being  able  to 
indulge  his  genius,  and  cultivate  the  task 
he  is  fit  for.  Native  vivacity  and  suitable 
occupation  conspire  to  make  his  existence 
perfect." 

An  able  writer  in  the  "  Foreign  Quarter- 
ly Review  "  speaks  of  Rabelais  as  "  an  au- 
thor without  parallel  in  the  history  of  liter- 
ature :  an  author  who  is  the  literary  parent 
of  many  authors,  since  without  him  we 
should  probably  have  never  known  a  Swift, 
a  Sterne,  a  Jean  Paul,  or,  in  fact,  any  of  the 
irregular  humorists  :  an  author  who  did  not 
appear  as  a  steadily  shining  light  to  the  hu- 
man race,  but  as  a  wild,  startling  meteor, 
predicting  the  independence  of  thought,  and 
the  downfall  of  the  authority  of  ages  :  an  au- 
thor who  for  the  union  of  heavy  learning  with 
the  most  miraculous  power  of  imagination, 
is  perhaps  without  a  competitor." 

Obviously,  from  what  has  been  said,  the 
writings  of  Rabelais  can  never  become  pop- 
ular. They  embody  so  much  learning,  and 
their  serious  intention  is  so  hidden  from  all 
save  acute  and  erudite  minds,  that  they  give 
to  the  general  reader  an  impression  of  riot- 
ous levity,  flashing,  indeed,  with  unmistak- 
able wit,  but  soiled  too  often  with  repulsive 
coarseness.  They  have  been,  and  still  are, 
however,  a  rich  mine  for  philosophers  and 
wits,  and  thus,  literature  and  thought  have 
been  leavened  with  the  humorous  conceits 
and  the  practical  wisdom  of  Rabelais. 

A  few  words  of  explanation  concerning 
the  characters  that  figure  prominently  in 
our  selections  may  prove  helpful  to  the 
reader : 

PANTAGRUEL  (from  panta  all,  and  gruel 
thirst)  represents,  in  a  general  sense,  the 
spirit  of  inquiry,  which  is  all-embracing  and 
insatiate ;  hence  Pantagruel  is  represented 
as  a  giant  with  an  astounding  alimental 
capacity.  He  is  said  to  have  come  into  the 
world  accompanied  by  eighty-one  sellers 
of  salt,  each  leading  a  mule  by  a  halter; 
nine  dromedaries  laden  with  hams  and 
smoked  tongues ;  seven  camels  laden  with 
eels ;  besides  twenty-five  wagons  full  of 
leeks,  garlics,  onions  and  shalots. 

PANURGE,  who  is  the  proUg£  and  beloved 
companion  of  Pantagruel,  is  a  handsome, 
lively,  healthy  fellow,  with  a  superabun- 
dance of  animal  spirits,  yet  exceedingly 
shrewd,  witty  and  cunning,  and  quite  learn- 
ed withal,  especially  in  respect  of  lan- 
guages. He  is  given  to  the  perpetration  of 
practical  jokes,  and  boasts  that  "never  mail 


did  me  a  good  turn  but  I  returned  it,  or  at 
least  acknowledged  it ;  never  did  man  do 
me  an  ill  one  without  ruing  the  day  that  he 
did  it,  either  in  this  world  or  the  next."  He 
is  in  some  sort  a  type  of  worldly  sagacity, 
— of  that  faculty  which  extracts  all  possible 
comfort  and  indulgence  from  the  present 
life,  with  a  supreme  regard  for  self.  Pan- 
urge  is  the  real  hero  of  the  books  in  which  he 
figures.  He  displays  great  pusillanimity  in 
danger,  though  a  great  braggart  at  other 
times.  He  says  of  himself,  "  As  for  fear, 
I  have  nane  of  it.  My  name  is  William 
Dreadnought.  I  fear  nothing  but  danger." 

FRIAR  JOHN  is  in  effective  contrast  with 
Panurge,  and  a  kind  of  friendly  bickering 
is  constantly  kept  up  between  them.  Lusty, 
roaring,  bullying  speeches  are  given  to  the 
monk  and  sly  waggeries,  odd  conceits,  and 
astute  sophistries  are  given  to  Panurge.  If 
there  is  a  shipwreck  or  a  skirmish,  Friar 
John  is  foremost  in  the  bustle  ;  fear  is  un- 
known to  him.  He  is  a  mass  of  profanity 
and  valor;  he  butts  his  way  through  the 
world  like  a  bull,  while  Panurge  glides 
through  it  like  a  snake. 

Many  volumes  filled  with  most  ingenious 
speculations  and  theories  have  been  pro- 
duced in  the  endeavor  to  prove  the  histori- 
cal identity  of  Rabelais'  heroes,  and  to  in- 
terpret his  puzzling  fancies  and  allusions. 
It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  the  critics 
differ  irreconcilably  in  their  attempted  solu- 
tions. It  would  be  quite  foreign  to  the  pre- 
sent purpose,  as  well  as  altogether  beyond 
the  limits  of  our  space,  to  enter  upon  such  a 
difficult  quest.  In  the  subjoined  extracts 
we  have  sought  to  exhibit  the  characteristic 
traits  of  our  author,  without  offending  the 
proper  sensibilities  of  the  reader.  The  per- 
sonal anecdotes  by  which  the  selections  are 
prefaced,  will,  we  doubt  not,  be  appreciated 
as  well  for  their  intrinsic  interest  as  for  the 
light  they  shed  on  the  character  of  the  man.] 

PERSONAL  ANECDOTES. 
RABELAIS  BEQUESTS  EXCOMMUNICATION. 

Cardinal  Du  Bellay  having  on  one  oc- 
casion brought  Rabelais  and  the  rest  of 
his  retinue  to  Pope  Paul  III.,  that  they 
might  beg  some  favor  of  his  Holiness, 
Rabelais,  being  bid  to  make  his  demand, 
only  begged  that  his  Holiness  would  be 
pleased  to  excommunicate  him. 

So  strange  a  request  having  caused 
much  surprise,  he  was  ordered  to  say 


RABELAIS. 


why  he  made  it.  Then  addressing  him- 
self to  that  Pope,  who  was  doubtless  a 
great  man,  and  had  nothing  of  the  morose- 
ness  of  many  others :  "  May  it  please  your 
Holiness,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  Frenchman 
of  a  little  town  called  Chinon,  whose  in- 
habitants are  thought  somewhat  too  sub- 
ject to  be  thrown  into  a  sort  of  unpleasant 
bonfires;  and  indeed,  a  good  number  of 
honest  men,  and  amongst  the  rest,  some 
of  my  relations,  have  been  fairly  burned 
there  already :  now  would  your  Holiness 
but  excommunicate  me,  I  would  be  sure 
never  to  burn.  My  reason  is,  that  pass- 
ing through  the  Tarentese,  where  the  cold 
was  very  great  in  the  way  to  this  city  with 
my  Lord  Cardinal  Du  Bellay,  having 
reached  a  little  hut,  where  an  old  woman 
lived,  we  prayed  her  to  make  a  fire  to 
warm  us,  but  she  burned  all  the  straw  of 
her  bed  to  kindle  a  faggot,  yet  could  not 
make  it  burn ;  so  that  at  last,  after  many 
imprecations,  she  cried,  without  doubt 
this  faggot  was  excommunicated  by  the 
Pope's  own  mouth,  since  it  will  not  burn : 
in  short,  we  were  obliged  to  go  on  with- 
out warming  ourselves.  Now  if  it  pleased 
your  Holiness,  but  to  excommunicate  me 
thus,  I  might  go  safely  to  my  country." 
By  this,  he  not  only,  in  a  jesting  manner, 
exposed  the  Roman  clergy's  persecuting 
temper,  but  seemed  to  allude  to  the  ineffi- 
cacy  of  the  former  Pope's  excommunica- 
tions in  England,  and  chiefly  in  Ger- 
many ;  where  they  only  served  to  warn 
Henry  VIII.,  and  on  the  other  side,  the 
Lutherans,  to  secure  themselves  against 
the  attempts  of  their  enemies. 

He,  that  would  not  spare  the  Pope  to 
his  face,  was  doubtless  not  less  liberal  of 
his  biting  jokes  to  others:  insomuch,  that 
he  was  obliged  to  leave  Borne  without 
much  preparation ;  not  thinking  himself 
safe  among  the  Italians,  who,  of  all  men, 
love  and  forgive  raillery  the  least,  when 
they  are  the  subjects  of  it. 

HOW  HE  OBTAINED  FREE  TRANSPOR- 
TATION. 

Being  come  as  far  as  Lyons  in  his  way 
to  Paris,  very  indifferently  accoutred,  and 
no  money  to  proceed,  whether  he  had 
been  robbed  or  had  spent  all  his  sfeoc^jj 
he,  who  had  a  peculiar  love  for  ease,  aai : 
good  eating,  and  no  less  zeal  for  good 
drinking,  found  himself  in  dismal  circum- 
etances.  So  he  had  recourse  to  a  strata- 
gem which  might  have  been  of  dangerous 


consequence  to  one  less  known  than  Rab- 
elais. 

Being  lodged  at  the  Tower  and  Angel, 
a  famous  inn  in  that  city,  he  took  some 
of  the  ashes  in  the  chimney,  and  having 
wrapped  them  up  in  several  little  papers, 
on  one  of  them  he  writ  Poison  to  kill  the 
King,  on  another,  Poison  to  kill  the  Queen, 
on  a  third,  Poison  to  kill  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans, and  having  on  the  Change  met  a 
young  merchant,  told  him,  that  being 
skilled  in  physiognomy  he  plainly  saw 
that  he  had  a  great  desire  to  get  an  estate 
easily ;  therefore,  if  he  would  come  to  his 
inn,  he  would  put  him  in  a  way  to  gain  a 
hundred  thousand  crowns.  The  greedy 
merchant  was  very  ready,  so  when  he 
had  treated  our  doctor,  he  came  to  the 
main  point,  that  is,  how  to  get  the  hun- 
dred thousand  crowns.  Then  Rabelais, 
after  t'  other  bottle  or  two,  pretending  a 
great  deal  of  caution,  at  last  showed  him 
the  papers  of  powder,  and  proposed  to 
him  to  make  use  of  them  according  to 
their  superscriptions,  which  the  other 
promised,  and  they  appointed  to  meet 
the  next  day,  to  take  measures  about  it ; 
but  the  too  credulous,  though  honest 
trader,  immediately  ran  to  a  judge,  who, 
having  heard  the  information,  presently 
sent  to  secure  Rabelais,  the  Dauphin  hav- 
ing been  poisoned  some  time  before;  so 
the  doctor  with  his  powder  was  seized, 
and  being  examined  by  the  judge,  gave 
no  answer  to  the  accusation,  save  that  he 
told  the  young  merchant,  that  he  had 
never  thought  him  fit  to  keep  a  secret, 
and  only  desired  them  to  secure  what  was 
in  the  papers,  and  send  him  to  the  King, 
for  he  had  strange  things  to  say  to  him. 

Accordingly,  he  is  carefully  sent  to 
Paris,  and  handsomely  treated  by  the  way 
on  free  cost,  as  are  all  the  King's  prison- 
ers, and  being  come  to  Paris,  was  imme- 
diately brought  before  the  King,  who, 
knowing  him,  asked  him  what  he  had 
done  to  be  brought  in  that  condition,  and 
where  he  had  left  the  Cardinal  Du  Bellay. 
Upon  this  the  Judge  made  his  report, 
showed  the  bills  with  the  powder,  and  the 
informations  which  he  had  drawn.  Ra- 
belais on  his  side  told  his  case,  took  some 
of  all  the  powders  before  the  King; 
which,  being  found  to  be  only  harmless 
wood  ashes,  pleaded  for  Rabelais  so  effect- 
ually, that  the  business  ended  in  mirth, 
and  the  poor  Judge  was  only  laughed  at 
for  his  pains. 


RABELAIS. 


SERVING  HIS  UNIVERSITY  BY  A  JEST. 

Neither  were  his  jests  sometimes  less 
productive  of  good,  than  the  deep  earnest 
of  others,  of  which  the  University  of 
Montpellier  furnishes  us  with  an  instance ; 
none  being  admitted  to  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Physic  there,  who  has  not  first 
put  on  the  gown  and  cap  of  Dr.  Eabelais, 
which  are  preserved  in  the  Castle  of  Mo- 
rac  in  that  city.  The  cause  of  this  uncom- 
mon veneration  for  the  memory  of  that 
learned  man,  is  said  to  be  this : 

Some  scholars  having  occasioned  an  ex- 
traordinary disorder  in  that  city,  Anthony 
Du  Prat,  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Sens, 
then  Lord  Chancellor  of  France,  upon 
complaint  made  of  it,  caused  the  Univer- 
sity to  be  deprived  of  part  of  its  privileges. 
Upon  this,  none  was  thought  fitter  to  be 
sent  to  Paris  to  solicit  their  restitution 
than  our  doctor,  who,  by  his  wit,  learning 
and  eloquence,  as  also  by  the  friends  which 
they  had  purchased  him  at  Court,  seemed 
capable  to  obtain  any  thing.  When  he 
came  to  Paris  about  it,  the  difficulty  lay  in 
gaining  audience  of  the  Chancellor,  who 
was  so  incensed,  that  he  refused  to  hear 
anything  in  behalf  of  the  University  of 
Montpellier.  So  Rabelais,  having  vainly 
tried  to  be  admitted,  at  last  put  on  his  red 
gown  and  doctor's  cap  (some  say,  a  green 
gown  and  a  long  grey  beard)  and  thus 
accoutred,  came  to  the  Chancellor's  Palace, 
on  St.  Austin's  Quay ;  but  the  porter  and 
some  other  servants  mistook  him  for  a 
mad  man :  so  Rabelais  having,  in  a  per- 
emptory tone,  been  asked  there  who  he 
was,  let  his  impertinent  querist  know,  that 
he  was  the  gentleman  who  usually  had 
the  honor  to  flay  bull-calves ;  and  that,  if 
he  had  a  mind  to  be  first  flayed,  he  had 
best  make  haste  and  strip  immediately. 
Then  being  asked  some  other  questions, 
he  answered  in  Latin,  which  the  other 
understanding  not,  one  of  the  Chancellor's 
officers  that  could  speak  that  tongue  was 
brought,  who,  addressing  himself  to  our 
doctor  in  Latin,  was  answered  by  him  in 
Greek,  which  the  other  understanding  as 
little  as  the  first  did  Latin,  a  third  was 
fetched  who  could  speak  Greek ;  but  he 
no  sooner  spoke  in  that  language  to  Rab- 
elais, but  was  answered  by  him  in  He- 
brew ;  and  one,  who  understood  Hebrew, 
being  with  much  difficulty  procured  Rabe- 
lais spoke  to  him  in  Syriac :  thus  having 
exhausted  all  the  learning  of  the  family, 


the  Chancellor,  who  was  told,  that  there 
was  a  merry  fool  at  his  gate  who  had  out- 
done every  one,  not  only  in  languages,  but 
in  smartness  of  repartees,  ordered  him  to 
be  brought  in.  'T  was  a  little  before  din- 
ner. Then  Rabelais,  shifting  the  farcical 
scene  into  one  more  serious,  addressed 
himself  to  the  Chancellor  with  much  re- 
spect, and  having  first  made  his  excuse 
for  his  forced  buffoonery,  in  a  most  eloquent 
and  learned  speech,  so  effectually  pleaded 
the  cause  of  his  university,  that  the  Chan- 
cellor, at  once  ravished  and  persuaded, 
not  only  promised  the  restitution  of  the 
abolished  privileges,  but  made  the  doctor 
sit  down  at  table  with  him  as  a  particular 
mark  of  his  esteem. 

PROCURING  A  DOCTOR'S  DEGREE  FOR 
HIS  HORSE. 

Much  about  that  time,  hearing  with 
what  facility,  for  the  sake  of  a  small  sum 
of  money,  the  Faculty  of  Orange  (some 
say  Orleans)  admitted  ignorant  preten- 
ders, as  Doctors  of  Physic,  not  only  with- 
out examining,  but  even  without  seeing 
them,  Rabelais  sent  the  usual  fees,  and 
had  one  received  Doctor  there  unseen,  by 
the  name  of  Doctor  Johannes  Caballus, 
and  let  the  wise  professors  and  the  world 
know  afterwards,  what  a  worthy  member 
they  had  admitted  into  their  body,  since 
that  very  Doctor  was  his  horse  Jack ;  or, 
as  some  say,  his  mule :  for  if  there  are 
various  lections,  there  may  well  be  also 
various  traditions  of  the  same  passage. 

THE  MULE  AND  THE  HOLY  WATER. 

Rabelais  being  at  Paris,  and  more  care- 
ful of  himself  than  of  his  mule,  had 
trusted  it  to  the  care  of  the  printer's  men, 
desiring  them  at  least  not  to  let  it  want 
water.  But  he  having  perhaps  forgot  to 
make  them  drink,  they  also  easily,  though 
uncharitably,  forgot  the  poor  brute.  At 
three  days'  end  the  creature  having  drank 
as  little  water  as  its  master,  a  young  un- 
lucky boy  took  a  fancy  to  get  on  its  back, 
even  like  the  Miller's  Daughter,  without 
a  saddle ;  another  truant  scholar  begged 
to  get  behind  him,  so  did  a  third  and  eke 
a  fourth.  Thus  these  four  being  mounted 
like  Aymond's  four  sons  a  horseback  on  a 
mule,  without  bridle  or  halter,  the  real 
and  living  emblem  of  Folly,  the  grave 
animal  walked  leisurely  down  St.  James'i 


RABELAIS. 


etreet,  till  it  came  near  a  church,  towards 
which  it  moved,  drawn  by  the  magnetic 
virtue  of  the  water,  which  it  smelt  at  a 
considerable  distance,  in  the  Holy  Water- 
Pot,  which  is  always  near  the  porch.  And 
•in  vain  our  four  riders  kicked  and  called  ; 
in  spite  of  them  the  headstrong  thirsty 
beast  made  up  to  the  Holy  element ;  and 
though  the  church  was  almost  full  of  peo- 
ple, it  being  Sunday  and  sermon-time, 
notwithstanding  all  opposition,  the  bold 
monster  dipped  its  saucy  snout  in  the 
sanctified  cistern.  The  people,  that  were 
near  it,  were  not  a  little  amazed  at  the 
impudence  of  that  sacrilegious  animal, 
deservedly  cursed  with  sterility,  though 
it  were  but  for  this  one  crime ;  many  took 
him  for  a  spectrum  that  bore  some  souls 
formerly  heretical,  but  now  penitent,  that 
came  to  seek  the  sweet  refrigeratory  of 
the  saints,  out  of  the  more  than  hellish 
flames  of  purgatory.  So  the  unconcerned 
mule  took  a  swinging  draught  of  holy 
liquor,  yet  did  not  like  it  so  well,  there 
being  always  salt  in  it.  as  to  take  a  second 
dose ;  but,  having  somewhat  allayed  its 
raging  thirst,  modestly  withdrew,  with 
her  two  brace  of  youngsters.  However, 
the  thing  did  not  end  thus;  for  the  brute 
was  seized,  and  Rabelais,  being  thought 
none  of  the  greatest  admirers  of  the  Rom- 
ish fopperies,  was  shrewdly  suspected  of 
having  laid  the  design  of  that  scandalous 
adventure.  Nor  was  the  rude  four-legged 
Johannes  Caballus  released  out  of  the 
pound,  till  its  master  had  dearly  paid  for 
its  drink. 

ADORING  THE  STATUE  OF  CHABLES  VIII. 

'T  is  also  said,  that  as  he  was  kneeling 
once  at  church,  before  the  statue  of  King 
Charles  VIII.,  a  monk  came  and  said  to 
him,  that  doubtless  he  mistook  that 
King's  statue  for  that  of  some  saint ;  but 
Rabelais  immediately  replied,  "  I  am  not 
so  much  a  monk  (blockhead  I  mean)  as 
thou  thinkest  me ;  nor  yet  so  blyid,  as  not 
to  know,  that  I  kneel  b'efore  the  represen- 
tation of  King  Charles  VIII.  for  whose 
soul  I  was  praying,  because  he  brought 
the  syphilis  out  of  Naples  into  this  king- 
dom, by  which  means,  I,  and  other  physi- 
cians, have  been  considerable  gainers. 

A  JOKE  THAT  CURED  A  CARDINAL. 

Several  physicians  being  once  assem- 
bled to  consult  about  an  hypochondriac 


;  humour,   which   confined    Cardinal    Du 
!  Bellay    to   his    bed ;    they    at    last    re- 
j  solved,  that  an  aperitive  (opening)  decoc- 
|  tion  should  be  prepared,  to  be  frequently 
taken  with  some  syrup,  by  the  patient. 
Now   Rabelais,  who  was   his   physician, 
perhaps  not  being  of  their  opinion,  while 
:  the  rest  of  our  learned  doctors  were  still 
I  discoursing  in  their  scientific  jargon,  to 
deserve  the  large  fee,  caused  a  fire  to  be 
i  made  in  the  yard,  and  on  it  to  be  set  a 
i  kettle  full  of  water,  into  which  he  had 
j  put  as  many  keys  as  he  could  get ;  and 
i  while  he  was  very  busy  in  stirring  them 
j  about  with  a  stick,  the  doctors  coming 
|  down,  saw  him,  and  asked  what  he  was 
i  doing?     "  Following  your  directions,"  re- 
:  plied  he.  "  How,  in  the  name  of  Galen  ?  " 
I  cried  one  of  them.     "  You  are  for  some- 
thing that  may  be  very   aperitive,"  re- 
turned Rabelais,  "and  by  Hippocrates,  I 
:  think  you  will  own  that  nothing  can  be 
more    aperitive    than    keys,  unless  you 
|  would  have  me  send  to  the  arsenal  for 
!  some  pieces  of  cannon."    This  odd  fancy, 
!  being  immediately  related  to  the  sick  car- 
dinal, set  him  into  such  a  fit  of  laughing, 
j  that  it  helped  more  to  cure  him  than  the 
I  prescription;  and  what  made  the  jest  the 
J  more  pertinent  was,  that  keys  are  made  of 
'  iron  and  steel,  which  with  water  are  the 
chief  ingredients  in  chalybeate  medicines. 

EXCHANGING  COMPLIMENTS   WITH 
CALVIN. 

Hearing  that  the  grave  John  Calvin, 
somewhat  prejudiced  against  him  for  his 
biting  jokes,  had  played  on  his  name  by 
the  way  of  anagram ;  saying  Itabelcesiiu, 
Rabie  l&sus,  angfice  mad  man ;  he,  with 
an  admirable  presence  of  mind,  immedi- 
ately returned  the  compliment  in  the 
same  kind,  saying :  Calvin  Jan  cul,  anglice 
jack  arse,  adding,  that  there  was  anagram 
for  anagram,  and  that  a  studied  trifle 
only  deserved  to  be  paid  back  with  one 
worse,  extempore. 

"RABELAIS'  QUARTER  OF  AN  HOUB." 

Thus,  while  like  Democritus,  he  made 
himself  merry  with  the  impertinencies  of 
mankind,  nothing  was  able  to  allay  his 
mirth,  unless  it  were  the  thought  of  a  reck- 
oning, at  the  time  that  he  paid  it ;  then 
indeed,  he  was  thought  somewhatserious, 
though  probably  't  was  partly  that  those 
who  were  to  receive  it,  might  not  impose 


RABELAIS. 


on  him  and  the  company,  and  hecause  he 
generally  found  his  purse  not  over  full. 


However,  the  time  of  paying  the  shot  in 
a  tavern  among  good  fellows,  or  panta- 
gruelists,  is  still  called  in  France,  le  quart 

s' 


,  , 

<?  heure  de  Rabelais  ;  that  is  Rabelais's 
quarter  of  an  hour  (when  a  man  is  uneasy 
or  melancholy). 

HIS  LAST  HOURS. 

Yet  his  enemies,  the  monks  and  some 
others  tell  us,  that  he  seemed  much  less 
concerned  when  he  paid  the  grand  shot 
of  life,  than  when  he  discharged  a  small 
tavern  reckoning  :  for  they  say,  that  he 
faced  death  with  an  unconcerned  and 
careless  countenance  ;  and  in  short  that 
he  died  just  as  he  lived.  They  relate  the 
thing  thus. 

Rabelais  being  very  sick,  Cardinal  Du 
Bellay  sent  his  page  to  him,  to  have  an 
account  of  his  condition  ;  his  answer  was, 
"  Tell  my  Lord,  in  what  circumstances 
thou  findest  me  ;  I  am  just  going  to  leap 
into  the  dark.  He  is  up  in  the  cock-loft, 
bid  him  keep  where  he  is.  As  for  thee, 
thoul't  always  be  a  fool:  let  down  the 
curtain,  the  farce  is  done.''  Likewise  a 
monk  not  only  tells  us,  that  he  ended  his 
life  with  that  jest  but  that  he  left  a  paper 
sealed  up,  wherein  were  found  three  ar- 
ticles, as  his  last  will,  "  /  owe  much,  I 
have  nothing,  I  give  the  rest  to  the  poor." 


HOW  PANURGE  PRAISETH  DEBTORS 
AND  BORROWERS. 

Quoth  Pantagruel,  when  will  you  be  out 
of  debt?  At  the  ensuing  term  of  the 
Greek  Calends1,  answered  Panurge,  when 
all  the  world  shall  be  content,  and  that  it 
be  your  fate  to  become  your  own  heir. 
The  Lord  forbid  that  I  should  be  out  of 
debt,  as  if,  indeed,  I  could  not  be  trusted. 
Who  leaves  not  some  leaven  over  night,  will 
hardly  have  paste  the  next  morning. 

Be  still  indebted  to  somebody  or  other, 
that  there  may  be  somebody  always  to 
pray  for  you,  that  the  Giver  of  all  good 
things  may  grant  unto  you  a  blessed, 
long,  and  prosperous  life  ;  fearing  if  For- 
tune should  deal  crossly  with  you,  that  it 
aright  be  his  chance  to  come  short  of 


1  That  is,  Never :   For  the  Greeks  knew  nothing  of 
lh«  Roman  way  of  reckoning  by  Calends. 


being  paid  by  you  ;  he  will  always  speak 
good  of  you  in  every  company,  ever  and 
anon  purchase  new  creditors  unto  you ; 
to  the  end  that  through  their  means  you 
may  make  a  shift  by  borrowing  from  Peter 
to  pay  Paul,  and  with  other  folks'  earth 
fill  up  his  ditch.  When  of  old  in  the 
region  of  the  Gauls,  by  the  institution  of 
the  druids,  the  servants,  slaves,  and 
bondmen  were  burnt  quick  at  the 
funerals  and  obsequies  of  their  lords 
and  masters,  had  not  they  fear  enough, 
think  you,  that  their  lords  and  masters 
should  die?  For,  per  force,  they  were  to 
die  with  them  for  company.  Did  not 
they  incessantly  send  up  their  supplica- 
tions to  their  great  god  Mercury,  as  like- 
wise unto  Dis  the  father  of  wealth,  to 
lengthen  out  their  da^rs,  and  preserve 
them  long  in  health?  Were  not  they 
very  careful  to  entertain  them  well, 
punctually  to  look  unto  them,  and  to  at- 
tend them  faithfully  and  circumspectly  ? 
For  by  those  means  were  they  to  live  to- 
gether at  least  until  the  hour  of  death. 
Believe  me,  your  creditors  with  a  more 
fervent  devotion  will  beseech  Almighty 
God  to  prolong  your  life,  they  being  of 
nothing  more  afraid  than  that  you  should 
die ;  for  that  they  are  more  concerned  for 
the  sleeve  than  the  arm,  and  love  the 
penny  better  than  their  own  lives  ;  as  it 
evidently  appeareth  by  the  usurers  of 
Landerousse,  who  not  long  since  hanged 
themselves,  because  the  price  of  the  corn 
and  wines  was  fallen,  by  the  return  of  a 
gracious  season.  To  this  Pantagruel  an- 
swering nothing,  Panurge  went  on  in  his 
discourse,  saying,  Truly,  and  in  good 
sooth,  Sir,  when  I  ponder  my  destiny 
aright,  and  think  well  upon  it,  you  put  me 
shrewdly  to  my  plunges,  and  have  me  at  a 
bay  in  twitting  me  with  the  reproach  of 
my  debts  and  creditors :  and  yet  did  I,  in 
this  only  respect  and  consideration  of 
being  a  debtor,  esteem  myself  worshipful, 
reverend,  and  formidable.  For,  against 
the  opinion  of  most  philosophers,  that  of 
nothing  ariseth  nothing ;  yet  without 
having  bottomed  on  so  much  as  that  which 
is  called  the  first  matter,  did  I  out  of 
nothing  become  such  a  maker  and  cre- 
ator, that  I  have  created,  what?  a  gay 
number  of  fair  and  jolly  creditors.  Nay, 
creditors  (I  will  maintain  it,  even  to  the 
very  fire  itself  exclusively)  are  fair  and 
goodly  creatures.  Who  lendeth  nothing 
is  an  ugly  and  wicked  creature,  and  an 


RABELAIS. 


accursed  imp  of  the  infernal  Old  Nick. 
And  there  is  made,  what?  Debts  :  a  thing 
most  precious  and  dainty,  of  great  use 
and  antiquity.  Debts,  I  say,  surmount- 
ing the  number  of  syllables  which  may 
result  from  the  combination  of  all  the 
consonants  with  each  of  the  vowels  here- 
tofore projected,  reckoned  and  calculated 
by  the  noble  Xenocrates.1  To  judge  of 
the  perfection  of  debtors  by  the  numer- 
osity  of  their  creditors,  is  the  readiest 
way  for  entering  into  the  mysteries  of 
practical  arithmetic. 

You  can  hardly  imagine  how  glad  I  am, 
when  every  morning  I  perceive  myself 
environed  and  surrounded  with  brigades 
of  creditors  ;  humble,  fawning  and  full  of 
their  reverences :  And  whilst  I  remark, 
that  as  I  look  more  favorably  upon,  and 
give  a  cheerful  countenance  to  one  than 
another,  the  fellow  thereupon  buildeth  a 
conceit  that  he  shall  be  the  first  dis- 
patched, and  the  foremost  in  the  date  of 
payment;  and  he  valueth  my  smiles  at 
the  rate  of  ready  money.  It  seemeth 
unto  me,  that  I  then  act  and  personate  the 
God  of  the  Passion  of  Saumure,  accom- 
panied with  his  angels  and  cherubims. 

These  are  my  flatterers,  my  soothers, 
my  clawbacks,  my  smoothers,  my  para- 
sites, my  saluters,  my  givers  of  good 
morrows,  and  perpetual  orators,  which 
makes  me  verily  think,  that  the  suprem- 
est  height  of  heroic  virtue,  described  by 
Hesiod,  consisteth  in  being  a  debtor, 
wherein  I  held  the  first  degree  in  my 
commencement.  Which  dignity,  though 
all  human  creatures  seem  to  aim  at,  and 
aspire  thereto,  few  nevertheless,  because 
of  the  difficulties  in  the  way,  and  in- 
cumbrances  of  hard  passages,  are  able 
to  reach  it,  as  is  easily  perceivable  by  the 
ardent  desire  and  vehement  longing 
harbored  in  the  breast  of  every  one,  to 
be  still  creating  more  debts,  and  new 
creditors. 

Yet  doth  it  not  lie  in  the  power  of  every 
one  to  be  a  debtor.  To  acquire  creditors 
is  not  at  the  disposure  of  each  man's 
arbitrament.  You  nevertheless  would 
deprive  me  of  this  sublime  felicity.  You 
ask  me  when  I  will  be  out  of  debt. 

Well,  to  go  yet  farther  on,  and  possibly 
worse  in  your  conceit,  may  Saint  Bablin, 
the  good  saint,  snatch  me,  if  I  have  not 


1  Xenocrates  made  them  to  amount  to  100,200,000 
syllables  from  the  Greek  alphabet. 


all  my  life-time,  held  debt  to  be  as  an 
union  or  conjunction  of  the  heavens  with 
the  earth,  and  the  whole  cement  whereby 
the  race  of  mankind  is  kept  together ; 
yea,  of  such  virtue  and  efficacy,  that,  I 
say,  the  whole  progeny  of  Adam  would 
very  suddenly  perish  without  it.  There- 
fore, perhaps,  I  do  not  think  amiss,  when 
I  repute  it  to  be  the  great  Soul  of  the 
Universe,  which  (according  to  the  opinion 
of  the  Academics)  vivified  all  manner  of 
things.  In  confirmation  whereof,  that 
you  may  the  better  believe  it  to  be  so, 
represent  unto  yourself,  without  any 
prejudice  of  spirit,  in  a  clear  and  serene 
fancy,  the  idea  and  form  of  some  other 
world  than  this ;  take,  if  you  please,  and 
lay  hold  on  the  thirtieth  of  those  which 
the  philosopher  Metrodorus  did  enumer- 
ate, wherein  it  is  to  be  supposed  there  is 
no  debtor  or  creditor,  that  is  to  say,  a 
world  without  debts.  There  amongst 
the  planets  will  be  no  regular  course. 
All  will  be  in  disorder.  Jupiter  reckoning 
himself  to  be  nothing  indebted  unto 
Saturn,  will  go  near  to  detrude  him  out 
of  his  sphere,  and  with  the  Homeric 
chain  will  be  like  to  hang  up  all  the  in- 
telligences, gods,  heavens,  demons,  he- 
roes, devils,  earth  and  sea,  together  with 
the  other  elements.  Saturn,  no  doubt, 
combining  with  Mars  will  reduce  the 
world  into  a  chaos  of  confusion. 

Mercury  then  would  be  no  more  sub- 
jected to  the  other  planets;  he  would 
scorn  to  be  any  longer  their  Camillus  l  as 
he  was  of  old  termed  in  the  Hetrurian 
tongue ;  for  it  is  to  be  imagined  that  he  is 
no  way  a  debtor  to  them.  Venus  will  be 
no  more  venerable,  because  she  shall 
have  lent  nothing.  The  moon  will  remain 
bloody  and  obscure:  For  to  what  end 
should  the  sun  impart  unto  her  any  of  his 
light?  He  owed  her  nothing.  Nor  yet 
will  the  sun  shine  upon  the  earth,  nor 
the  stars  send  down  any  good  influence, 
because  the  terrestrial  globe  hath  desisted 
from  sending  up  their  wonted  nourish- 
ment by  vapors  and  exhalations,  where- 
with Heraclitus  maintained  they  were 
cherished  and  alimented.  There  would 
likewise  be  in  such  a  world  no  manner  of 
symbolization,  alternation,  nor  transmu- 
tation amongst  the  elements;  for  the 
one  will  not  esteem  itself  obliged  to  the 


1  That  is,  their  servant ;  for  the  Ancients  called  by 
the  name  of  Camilli  those  young  boys  that  attended 
on  the  priests  in  the  sacrifices. 


RABELAIS. 


other,  as  having  borrowed  nothing  at  all 
from  it.  Earth  then  will  not  become  wa- 
ter, water  will  not  be  changed  into  air, 
of  air  will  be  made  no  fire,  and  fire 
will  afford  no  heat  unto  the  earth ;  the 
earth  will  produce  nothing  but  monsters, 
titans,  giants ;  no  rain  will  descend 
upon  it,  nor  light  shine  thereon ;  no 
wind  will  blow  there,  nor  will  there  be  in 
it  any  summer  or  autumn.  Lucifer  will 
break  loose,  and  issue  forth  of  the  depth 
of  hell,  accompanied  with  his  furies, 
fiends,  and  horned  devils  will  go  about 
to  unnestle  and  drive  out  of  heaven  all 
the  gods,  as  well  of  the  greater  as  of  the 
lesser  nations.  Such  a  world  without 
lending,  will  be  no  better  than  a  dog-ken- 
nel, a  place  of  contention  and  wrangling, 
more  unruly  and  irregular  than  that  of 
the  Rector  of  Paris ;  a  devil  of  an  hurly- 
burly,  and  more  disordered  confusion, 
than  that  of  the  plagues  [plays]  of  Douay. 
Men  will  not  then  salute  one  another  ;  it 
will  be  but  lost  labor  to  expect  aid  or 
succor  from  any,  or  to  cry,  fire,  water, 
murther,  for  none  will  put  to  their  help- 
ing hand.  Why?  He  lent  no  money; 
there  is  nothing  due  to  him.  Nobody  is 
concerned  in  his  burning,  in  his  ship- 
wreck, in  his  ruin  or  in  his  death ;  and 
that  because  he  hitherto  had  lent  nothing, 
and  would  never  thereafter  have  lent  any 
thing.  In  short,  Faith,  Hope,  and  Chari- 
ty would  be  quite  banished  from  such  a 
world ;  for  men  are  born  to  relieve  and 
assist  one  another ;  and  in  their  stead 
would  succeed  and  be  introduced  defiance, 
disdain  and  rancor,  with  the  most  ex- 
Bcrable  troop  of  all  evils,  all  impreca- 
tions and  all  miseries.  Whereupon  you 
will  think,  and  that  not  amiss,  that  Pan- 
dora had  there  split  her  unlucky  bottle. 
Men  unto  men  will  be  wolves,  hob- 
thrushers  and  goblins,  (as  were  Lycaon, 
Bellerophon,  Nebuchodonosor)  plunder- 
ers, highway-robbers,  cut-throats,  rap- 
parees,  murtherers,  poisoners,  assassina- 
tors, lewd,  wicked,  malevolent,  pernicious 
haters,  set  against  everybody,  like  to  Is- 
mael,  Metabus,  or  Timon  the  Athenian, 
who  for  that  cause  was  named  Misan- 
thropes ;  in  such  sort,  that  it  would  prove 
much  more  easy  in  nature  to  have  fish 
entertained  in  the  air,  and  bullocks  fed 
in  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  than  to  sup- 
port or  tolerate  a  rascally  rabble  of  peo- 
ple that  will  not  lend.  These  fellows  (I 
vow)  do  I  hate  with  a  perfect  hatred ;  and 


if  conformable  to  the  pattern  of  this  griev- 
ous, peevish,  and  perverse  world  which 
lendeth  nothing,  you  figure  and  liken  the 
little  world,  which  is  man,  you  will  find  in 
him  a  terrible  jostling  coyle  and  clutter  : 
The  head  will  not  lend  the  sight  of  his 
eyes  to  guide  the  feet  and  hands ;  the 
legs  will  refuse  to  bear  up  the  body ; 
the  hands  will  leave  off  working  any 
more  for  the  rest  of  the  members;  the 
heart  will  be  weary  of  its  continual  mo- 
tion for  the  beating  of  the  pulse,  and  will 
no  longer  lend  his  assistance ;  the  lungs 
will  withdraw  the  use  of  their  bellows ; 
the  liver  will  desist  from  conveying  any 
more  blood  through  the  veins  for  the 
good  of  the  whole  ;  the  bladder  will  not 
be  indebted  to  the  kidneys,  so  that  the 
urine  thereby  will  be  totally  stopped. 
The  brains,  in  the  interim,  considering 
this  unnatural  course,  will  fall  into  a 
raving  dotage,  and  withhold  all  feeling 
from  the  sinews,  and  motion  from  the 
muscles :  Briefly,  in  such  a  world  with- 
out order  and  array,  owing  nothing, 
lending  nothing  and  borrowing  nothing, 
you  would  see  a  more  dangerous  conspi- 
ration  than  that  which  JEsop  exposed  in 
his  Apologue.  Such  a  world  will  perish 
undoubtedly;  and  not  only  perish  but 
perish  very  quickly.  Were  it  ^sculapius 
himself,  his  body  would  immediately  rot, 
and  the  chafing  soul  full  of  indignation 
take  its  flight  to  all  the  devils  of  hell 
after  my  money. 

On  the  contrary,  be  pleased  to  represent 
unto  your  fancy  another  world,  where- 
in every  one  lendeth,  and  every  one  oweth, 
all  are  debtors,  and  all  creditors.  O  how 
great  will  that  harmony  be,  which  shall 
thereby  result  from  the  regular  motions 
of  the  heavens !  Methinks  I  hear  it 
every  whit  as  well  as  Plato  did.  What 
sympathy  there  will  be  amongst  the  ele- 
ments !  O  how  delectable  then  unto  na- 
ture will  be  our  own  works  and  produc- 
tions !  Whilst  Ceres  appeareth  laden 
with  corn,  Bacchus  with  wines,  Flora 
with  flowers,  Pomona  with  fruits,  and 
Juno  fair  in  a  clear  air,  wholesome  and 
pleasant :  I  lose  myself  in  this  high  con- 
templation. 

Then  will  among  the  race  of  man- 
kind, peace,  love,  benevolence,  fidelity, 
tranquillity,  rest,  banquets,  feastings, 
joy,  gladness,  gold,  silver,  single  money, 
chains,  rings,  with  other  ware,  and 
chaffer  of  that  nature  be  found  to  trot 


RABELAIS. 


from  hand  to  hand;  no  suits  at  law, 
no  wars,  no  strife,  debate,  nor  wrang- 
ling ;  none  will  be  there  an  usurer,  none 
will  be  there  a  pinchpenny,  a  scrape- 
good  wretch,  or  churlish  hard-hearted 
refuser.  Good  God !  Will  this  not  be 
the  golden  age  in  the  reign  of  Saturn  ? 
The  true  idea  of  the  Olympic  regions 
wherein,  all  other  virtues  ceasing,  Char- 
ity alone  ruleth,  governeth,  domineereth, 
and  triumpheth  ?  All  will  be  fair  and 
goodly  people  there,  all  just  and  virtuous. 

Happy  world !  O  people  of  that 
world  most  happy  !  Yea,  thrice  and  four 
times  blessed  is  that  people !  I  think  in 
very  deed  that  I  am  amongst  them,  and 
swear  to  you,  by  my  good  forsooth,  that 
if  this  glorious  aforesaid  world  had  a 
pope,  abounding  with  cardinals,  that  so 
he  might  have  the  association  of  a  sacred 
college,  in  the  space  of  a  very  few  years 
you  should  be  sure  to  see  the  saints  much 
thicker  in  the  roll,  more  numerous  won- 
der-working and  mirifick,  more  services, 
more  vows,  more  staff-bearers,  more  wax 
candles  than  are  all  those  in  the  nine 
bishoprics  of  Brittany,  St.  Yves  only  ex- 
cepted.  Consider,  Sir,  I  pray  you,  how 
the  noble  Patelin,  having  a  mind  to  deify, 
and  extol  even  to  the  third  heavens,  the 
father  of  William  Josseaume,  said  no 
more  but  this,  And  he  did  lend  his  goods 
~o  those  who  were  desirous  of  them.1 

O  the  fine  saying !  Now  let  our  mi- 
crocosm be  fancied  conformable  to  this 
model  in  all  its  members ;  lending,  bor- 
rowing and  owing,  (that  is  to  say)  accord- 
ing to  its  own  nature  :  For  nature  hath 
not  to  any  other  end  created  man,  but 
to  borrow  and  lend  ;  no  greater  the  har- 
mony amongst  the  heavenly  spheres, 
than  that  which  shall  be  found  in  its 
well  ordered  policy.  The  intention  of 
the  founder  of  this  microcosm  is,  to  have 
a  soul  therein  to  be  entertained,  which 
is  lodged  there,  as  a  guest  with  its  host, 
it  may  live  there  for  a  while.  Life  con- 
sisteth  in  blood,  blood  is  the  seat  of  the 
soul ;  therefore  the  chiefest  work  of  the 
microcosm,  is,  to  be  making  blood  con- 
tinually. 

At  this  Forge  are  exercised  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  body  ;  none  is  exempted  from 
labor,  each  operates  a  part,  and  doth  its 

1  This  is  in  the  Farce  of  Patelin,  where  that  arch 
cheat,  in  order  to  engage  Mr.  William  Joaseanme  to 
g-ivA  him  credit  for  his  cloth,  artfully  falls  to  praising 
William's  father,  and  so  gained  his  point 


]  proper  office.     And   such   is  their  hier- 
;  archy,  that  perpetually  the  one  borrows 
•  from  the  other,  the  one  lends  the  other, 
and  the  one  is  the  other's  debtor.     The 
stuff  and  matter  convenient  which  na- 
ture giveth  to  be  turned  into  blood  is 
bread  and  wine.    All  kind  of  nourishing 
victuals    is  understood    to    be    compre- 
hended in  these  two,  and  from  hence  in 
the  Gothic  tongue  is  called  Campanage. 
;  To  find  out  this  meat  and  drink,  to  pre- 
!  pare   and  boil  it,  the  hands  are  put  to 
work,  the  feet  do  walk  and  bear  up  the 
I  whole  bulk  of  the  corporal   mass ;  the 
j  eyes  guide  and  conduct  all ;  the  appetite 
;  in  the  orifice  of  the  stomach,  by  means 
j  of    little   sourish    black    humor   (called 
melancholy)  which  is  transmitted  thereto 
from  the  milk,  giveth  warning  to  shut  in 
the  food.     The  tongue  doth  make   the 
first  essay,  and  tastes  it ;    the  teeth   do 
chaw   it,  and  the  stomach  doth   receive, 
digest  and  chilify  it,  the  mesaraick  veins 
suck  out  of  it  what  is  good  and  fit,  leav- 
j  ing  behind  the  excrement*,  which   are, 
i  through  special  conduit*  for  that  purpose, 
!  voided  by  an  expulsive  faculty ;  there- 
i  after  it  is  carried  to  the  liver ;  'where  it 
!  being  changed  again,  it,  by  the  virtue  of 
that  new  transmutation,  becomes  blood. 
What  joy,  conjecture  you,  will  then  be 
j  founded    amongst    those  officers,    when 
they  see  this  rivulet  of  gold,  which  is 
their  sole  restorative  ?    No  greater  is  the 
ijoy  of  alchimists,  when  after  long  travel, 
!  toil  and  expense,  they  see  in  their  fiir- 
I  naces  the  transmutation.    Then  is  it  that 
j  every  member  doth    prepare  itself,  and 
;  strive  anew  to  purify  and  to  refine  this 
|  treasure :      The    kidneys,    through    the 
!  emulgent  veins  draw  that  aquosity  from 
!  thence  which  you  call  urine :  and  there 
I  send  it  away  through  the  ureters  to  be 
slipt  downwards ;  where,  in  a  lower  re- 
ceptacle, and  proper  for  it,  (to  wit  the 
bladder)  it  is  kept,  and  stayeth  there  un- 
til an  opportunity  to  void  it  out  in  his  due 
time.      The    spleen    draweth   from   the 
blood    its    terrestrial    part,     viz.,     the 
grounds,  lees,  or  thick  substance  settled 
in  the  bottom  thereof,  which  you  term 
melancholy  :  The  bottle  of  the  gall  sub- 
tracts from    thence  all  the  superfluous 
choler ;  whence  it  is  brought  to  another 
shop   or  work -house  to    be    yet    better 
i  purified  and  fined,   that    is,  the  heart, 
j  which  by  its  agitation  of  diastoiick  and 
j  systolick    motions  HO  neatly  subiilizeth 


10 


RABELAIS. 


and  inflames  it,  that  in  the  right  side 
ventricle  it  is  brought  to  perfection,  and 
through  the  veins  is  sent  to  all  the  mem- 
bers; each  parcel  of  the  body  draws  it 
then  unto  itself,  and  after  its  own 
fashion  is  cherished  and  aliinentated  by 
it :  Feet,  hands,  thighs,  arms,  eyes, 
ears,  back,  breast,  yea,  all ;  and  then  it 
is  that  who  before  were  lenders,  now  be- 
come debtors.  The  heart  doth  in  its 
left-side  ventricle  so  thiunify  the  blood 
that  it  thereby  obtains  the  name  of 
spiritual ;  which  being  sent  through  the 
arteries  to  all  the  members  of  the  body, 
serveth  to  warm  and  winnow  or  fan  the 
other  blood  which  runneth  through  the 
veins :  The  lights  never  cease  with  its 
lappets  and  bellows  to  cool  and  refresh 
it ;  in  acknowledgment  of  which  good  the 
heart  through  the  arterial  vein  imparts 
unto  it  the  choicest  of  its  blood.  At 
last  it  is  made  so  fine  and  subtle  within 
the  rete  mirabile,  that  thereafter  those 
animal  spirits  are  framed  and  composed 
of  it ;  by  means  whereof  the  imagina- 
tion, discourse,  judgment,  resolution,  de- 
liberation, ratiocination,  and  memory, 
have  their  rise,  actings,  and  operations. 

Cops  body,  I  sink,  I  drown,  I  perish,  I 
wander  astray,  and  quite  fly  out  of  my- 
self, when  I  enter  into  the  consideration 
of  the  profound  abyss  of  this  world,  thus 
lending,  thus  owing.  Believe  me,  it  is  a 
divine  thing  to  lend,  to  owe  an  heroic 
virtue.  Yet  is  not  this  all;  this  little 
world  thus  lending,  owing,  and  borrow- 
ing, is  so  good  and  charitable,  that  no 
sooner  is  the  above-specified  alimenta- 
tion finished,  but  that  it  forthwith  projec- 
teth,  and  hath  already  forecast,  how  it 
shall  lend  to  those  who  are  not  as  yet 
born,  and  by  that  loan  endeavor  what 
it  may,  to  eternize  itself,  and  multiply  in 
images  like  the  pattern,  that  is,  children. 
To  this  end  every  member  doth  of  the 
choicest  and  most  precious  of  its  nour- 
ishment, pare  and  cut  off  a  portion,  then 
instantly  dispatcheth  it  downwards  to  that 
place,  where  nature  hath  prepared  for  it 
very  fit  vessels  and  receptacles  through 
which  descending  to  the  genitories  by 
long  ambages,  circuits  and  flexuosities, 
it  receiveth  a  competent  form,  and  rooms 
apt  enough  both  in  the  man  and  woman 
for  the  future  conservation  and  perpetua- 
ting of  human  kind.  All  this  is  done  by 
loans  and  debts  of  the  one  unto  the 
<)ther;  and  hence  have  we  this  word,  the 


debt  of  marriage.  Nature  doth  reckon 
pain  to  the  refuser,  with  a  most  grievous 
vexation  to  his  members,  and  an  outra- 
geous fury  amidst  his  senses.  But  on 
the  other  part  to  the  lender  a  set  reward, 
accompanied  with  pleasure,  joy,  solace, 
mirth  and  merry  glee. 


WHY  MONKS  LOVE  TO  BE  IN 
KITCHENS. 

What  is  the  reason,  asked  friar  John, 
that  monks  are  always  to  be  found  in 
kitchens ;  and  kings,  emperors  and  popes 
are  never  there  ?  Is  there  not,  said  Rhi- 
zotomus,  some  latent  virtue  and  specific 
propriety  hid  in  the  kettles,  and  pans, 
which  as  the  load-stone  attracts  iron, 
draws  the  monks  there,  and  cannot  attract 
emperors,  popes,  or  kings?  Or  is  it  a 
natural  induction  and  inclination,  fixed  in 
the  frocks  and  cowls,  which  of  itself  leads 
and  forceth  those  good  religious  men  into 
kitchens,  whether  they  will  or  no?  He 
means  forms  following  matter,  as  Aver- 
roes  calls  them,  answered  Epiatemon, 
Right,  said  friar  John. 

I'll  not  offer  to  solve  this  problem,  said 
Pantagruel,  for  it  is  somewhat  ticklish, 
and  you  can  hardly  handle  it  without 
coming  off  scurvily,  but  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  have  heard. 

Antigonus,  King  of  Macedon,  one  day 
coming  into  one  of  the  tents,  where  his 
cooks  use  to  dress  his  meat,  and  finding 
there  poet  Antagoras  frying  a  conger,  and 
holding  the  pan  himself,  merrily  asked 
him,  pray,  Mr.  Poet,  was  Homer  frying 
congers  when  he  writ  the  deeds  of  Aga- 
memnon? Antagoras  readily  answered: 
but  do  you  think,  sir,  that  when  Agamem- 
non did  them,  he  made  it  his  business  to 
know  if  any  in  his  camp  were  frying  con- 
gers? The  king  thought  it  an  indecency 
that  a  poet  should  be  thus  a  frying  in  a 
kitchen,  and  the  poet  let  the  king  know 
that  it  was  a  more  indecent  thing  for  a 
king  to  be  found  in  such  a  place,  I'll 
clap  another  story  upon  the  neck  of  this, 
quoth  Panurge,  and  will  tell  you  what 
Breton  Villandry  answered  one  day  to  the 
Duke  of  Guise. 

They  were  saying  that  at  a  certain  battle 
of  King  Francis  against  the  Emperor 
Charles  the  Fifth,  Breton  armed  cap-a-pie 
to  the  teeth,  and  mounted  like  St.  George, 


RABELAIS. 


11 


yet  sneaked  off,  and  played  least  in  sight 
during  the  engagement.  Blood  and  oons, 
answered  Breton,  I  was  there  and  can 
prove  it  easily;  nay,  even  where  you,  my 
Lord  dared  not  have  been  The  Duke 
began  to  resent  this  as  too  rash  and  saucy , 
but  Breton  easily  appeased  him,  and  set 
them  all  a  laughing.  I  gad,  my  Lord, 
quoth  he,  I  kept  out  of  harm's  way,  I  was 
all  the  while  with  your  page  Jack  sulk- 
ing in  a  privy  where  you  had  not  dared 
hide  your  head  as  I  did. 


THE  FOOL'S  JUDGMENT. 

At  Paris,  in  the  roast-meat  cookery  of 
the  petit  chastelet,  before  the  cook-shop  of 
one  of  the  roast-meat  sellers  of  that  lane, 
a  certain  hungry  porter  was  eating  his 
bread,  after  he  had  by  parcels  kept  it  a 
while  above  the  reek  and  steam  of  a  fat 
goose  on  the  spit,  turning  at  a  great  fire, 
and  found  it  so  besmoked  with  the  vapor, 
to  be  savory ;  which  the  cook  observing, 
took  no  notice,  till  after  having  ravined 
his  penny  loaf  whereof  no  morsel  had 
been  unsmokified,  he  was  about  dis- 
camping  and  going  away;  but  by  your 
leave,  as  the  fellow  thought  to  have  de- 
parted thence  shot-free,  the  master-cook 
laid  hold  upon  him  by  the  gorget,  and  de- 
manded payment  for  the  smoke  of  his 
roast-meat. 

The  porter  answered,  that  he  had  sus- 
tained no  loss  at  all  •  that  by  what  he 
had  done  there  was  no  diminution  of  the 
flesh ;  that  he  had  taken  nothing  of  his, 
and  that  therefore  he  was  not  indebted  to 
him  in  any  thing:  as  for  the  smoke  in 
question,  that,  although  he  had  not  been 
there,  it  would  howsoever  have  been  evap- 
orated: besides  that,  before  that  time  it 
had  never  been  seen  nor  heard,  that  roast- 
meat  smoke  was  sold  upon  the  streets  of 
Paris. 

The  cook  hereto  replied,  that  he  was 
not  obliged  nor  any  way  bound  to  feed 
and  nourish  for  nought  a  porter  whom  he 
had  never  seen  before,  with  the  smoke  of 
his  roast-meat;  and  thereupon  swore,  that 
if  he  would  not  forthwith  content  and 
satisfy  him  with  present  payment  for  the 
repast  which  he  had  thereby  got,  that  he 
would  take  his  crooked  staves  from  off 
his  back ;  which  instead  of  having  loads 
thereafter  laid  upon  them,  should  serve 


for  fuel  to  his  kitchen  fires.  Whilst  he 
was  going  about  so  to  do,  and  to  have 
pulled  them  to  him  by  one  of  the  bottom 
rings,  which  he  had  caught  in  his  hand, 
the  sturdy  porter  got  out  of  his  gripes, 
drew  forth  the  knotty  cudgel,  and  stood 
to  his  own  defence. 

The  altercation  waxed  hot  in  words, 
which  moved  the  gaping  hoydens  of  the 
sottish  Parisians  to  run  from  all  parts 
thereabouts,  to  see  what  the  issue  would 
be  of  that  babbling  strife  and  contention 
In  the  interim  of  this  dispute,  to  very 
good  purpose  Seyny  John,  the  fool  and 
citizen  of  Paris,  happened  to  be  there, 
whom  the  cook  perceiving,  said  to  the 
porter,  wilt  thou  refer  and  submit  unto 
the  noble  Seyny  John,  the  decision  of  the 
difference  and  controversy  which  is  be- 
twixt us?  Yes,  by  the  blood  of  a  goose, 
answered  the  porter,  I  am  content 

Seyny  John  the  fool,  finding  that  the 
cook  and  porter  had  compromised  tha 
determination  of  their  variance  and  de- 
bate to  the  discretion  of  his  award  and 
arbitrament,  after  that  the  reasons  on 
either  side,  whereupon  was  grounded  tha 
mutual  fierceness  of  their  brawling  jar, 
had  been  to  the  full  displayed  and  laid 
open  before  him,  commanded  the  porter 
to  draw  out  of  the  fob  of  his  belt,  a  piece 
of  money,  if  he  had  it.  Whereupon  the 
porter  immediately  without  delay,  in  rev- 
erence to  the  authority  of  such  a  judicious 
umpire,  put  the  tenth  part  of  a  silver 
Phillip  into  his  hand.  This  little  Phillip, 
Seyny  John  took,  then  set  it  on  his  left 
shoulder,  to  try  by  feeling  if  it  was  of  a 
sufficient  weight;  after  that,  laying  it  on 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  made  it  ring 
and  tingle,  to  understand  by  the  ear  if  it 
was  of  a  good  alloy  in  the  metal  whereof 
it  was  composed :  thereafter  he  put  it  to 
the  ball  or  apple  of  his  left  eye,  to  explore 
by  the  sight  if  it  was  well  stamped  and 
marked ;  all  which  being  done,  in  a  pro- 
found silence  of  the  whole  doltish  people, 
who  were  there  spectators  of  this  pagean- 
try, to  the  great  nope  of  the  cook's,  and 
despair  of  the  porter's  prevalency  in  the 
suit  that  was  in  agitation,  he  finally 
caused  the  porter  to  make  it  sound  sev- 
eral times  upon  the  stall  of  the  cook's 
shop. 

Then  with  a  presidential  majesty  hold- 
ing his  bawble  (sceptre-like)  in  his  hand, 
muffling  his  head  with  a  hood  of  marten 
skins,  each  side  whereof  had  the  resem- 


12 


EABELAIS. 


blance  of  an  Ape's  face,  sprucified  up  with 
ears  of  pasted  paper,  and  having  about 
his  neck  a  bucked  ruff,  raised,  furrowed, 
and  ridged,  with  pouting  sticks,  of  the 
shape  and  fashion  of  small  organ  pipes ; 
he  first  with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs, 
coughed  two  or  three  times,  and  then  pro- 
nounced the  following  sentence : 

The  court  declared,  that  the  porter,  who 
ate  his  bread  at  the  smoke  of  the  roast, 
hath  civilly  paid  the  cook  with  the  sound 
of  his  money  :  and  the  said  court  ordain- 
eth,  that  every  one  return  to  his  own 
home,  and  attend  his  proper  business, 
without  cost  and  charges,  and  for  a  cause. 
This  verdict,  award  and  arbitrament  of 
the  Parisian  fool,  did  appear  so  equitable, 
yea,  so  admirable  to  the  doctors  of  the  law, 
that  they  very  much  doubted,  if  the  mat- 
ter had  been  brought  before  the  Sessions 
for  Justice  of  the  said  place,  or  that  the 
Judges  of  the  Rota  at  Rome  had  been 
umpires  therein ;  or  yet  that  the  Areopa- 
gites  themselves  had  been  the  deciders 
thereof,  if  by  any  one  part,  or  all  of  them 
together,  it  had  been  so  judicially  senten- 
tiated  and  awarded. 


THE  SECRET-TELLING  BOX. 

POPE  JOHN  XXII.  passing  on  a  day 
through  the  Abbey  of  Toucherome,  was 
in  all  humility  required  and  besought 
by  the  Abbess,  and  other  discreet  mothers 
•of  the  said  Convent,  to  grant  them  an 
indulgence,  by  means  whereof  they  might 
confess  themselves  to  one  another,  alleg- 
ing, that  religious  women  were  subject  to 
some  petty  secret  slips  and  imperfections, 
which  would  be  a  foul  and  burning  shame 
for  them  to  discover  and  to  reveal  to  men, 
how  sacerdotal  soever  their  function  were : 
but  that  they  would  freelier,  more  famili- 
arly, and  with  greater  cheerfulness,  open 
to  each  other  their  offences,  faults,  and 
escapes,  under  the  seal  of  confession. 
There  is  not  any  thing,  answered  the 
Pope,  fitting  for  you  to  impetrate  of  me, 
which  I  would  not  most  willingly  con- 
descend unto :  but  I  find  one  incon- 
venience; you  know,  confession  should 
be  kept  secret :  and  you  women  are  not 
able  to  do  so.  Exceeding  well,  quoth  they, 
most  Holy  Father,  and  much  more  closely 
than  the  best  of  men.  The  Holy  Father 
on  the  very  same  day,  gave  them  in  keep- 


ing a  pretty  box,  wherein  he  purposely 
caused  a  little  linnet  to  be  put,  willing 
them  very  gently  and  cautiously  to  lock 
it  up  in  some  sure  and  hidden  place ;  and 
promising  them,  by  the  '*  Faith  of  a  Pope," 
that  he  should  yield  to  their  request,  if 
they  would  keep  secret  what  was  inclosed 
within  that  deposited  box :  enjoining 
them  withal,  not  to  presume  one  way  nor 
other,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  go  about 
the  opening  thereof,  under  pain  of  the 
highest  ecclesiastical  censure,  eternal  ex- 
communication. The  prohibition  was 
no  sooner  made,  but  that  they  did  all  of 
them  boil  with  a  most  ardent  desire  to 
know,  and  see  what  kind  of  thing  it  was 
that  was  within  it :  they  thought  long  al- 
ready, that  the  Pope  was  not  gone,  to  the 
end  they  might  jointly,  with  the  more  lei- 
sure and  ease  apply  themselves  to  the  box- 
opening  curiosity.  The  Holy  Father, 
after  he  had  given  them  his  benediction, 
retired  and  withdrew  himself  to  the  Ponti- 
fical lodgings  of  his  own  palace ;  but  he 
was  hardly  gone  three  steps  from  without 
the  gates  of  their  cloister,  when  the  good 
ladies  throngingly,  and  as  in  a  huddled 
crowd,  pressing  hard  on  the  backs  of  one 
another,  ran  thrusting  and  shoving  who 
should  be  first  at  the  setting  open  of  the 
forbidden  box,  and  descrying  of  the  quod 
latitat  within.  On  the  very  next  day 
thereafter,  the  Pope  made  them  another 
visit,  of  a  full  design,  purpose,  and  in- 
tention (as  they  imagined)  to  dispatch  the 
grant  of  their  sought  and  wished-for  in- 
dulgence :  but  before  he  would  enter  into 
a  chat  or  communing  with  them,  he  com- 
manded the  casket  to  be  brought  unto 
him :  it  was  done  so  accordingly ;  but  by 
your  leave  the  bird  was  no  more  there. 
Then  was  it,  that  the  Pope  did  represent 
to  their  maternities,  how  hard  a  matter 
and  difficult  it  was  for  them  to  keep  secrets 
revealed  to  them  in  confession,  unmani- 
fested  to  the  ears  of  others ;  seeing  for  the 
space  of  four-and-twenty  hours  they  were 
not  able  to  lay  up  in  secret  a  box,  which 
he  had  highly  recommended  to  their  dis- 
cretion, charge,  and  custody. 


THE  LOST  HATCHET. 

THERE  once  lived  a  poor  honest  coun- 
try fellow  of  Gravot,  Tom  Wellhung  by 
name,  a  wood-cleaver  by  trade,  who  in 


RABELAIS. 


1? 


that  low  drudgery  made  shift  so  to  pick 
up  a  sorry  livelihood.  It  happened  that 
he  lost  his  hatchet.  Now  tell  me  who 
ever  had  more  cause  to  be  vexed  than 
poor  Tom  ?  Alas,  his  whole  estate  and 
life  depended  on  his  hatchet ;  by  his 
hatchet  he  earned  many  a  fair  penny  of 
the  best  wood-mongers  or  log-merchants, 
among  whom  he  went  a  jobbing ;  for  want 
of  his  hatchet  he  was  like  to  starve ;  and  j 
had  Death  but  met  him  six  days  after ! 
without  a  hatchet,  the  grim  fiend  would 
have  mowed  him  down  in  the  twinkling 
of  a  bed-staff.  In  this  sad  case  he  began 
to  be  in  a  heavy  taking,  and  called  upon 
Jupiter  with  most  eloquent  prayers  (for 
you  know,  Necessity  was  the  mother  of 
Eloquence),  with  the  whites  of  his  eyes 
turned  up  towards  heaven,  down  on  his 
marrow-bones,  his  arms  reared  high,  his 
fingers  stretched  wide,  and  his  head  bare, 
the  poor  wretch  without  ceasing  was 
roaring  out  by  way  of  Litany  at  every 
repetition  of  his  supplications,  my  hatchet, 
Lord  Jupiter,  my  hatchet,  my  hatchet, 
only  my  hatchet,  O  Jupiter,  or  money  to 
buy  another,  and  nothing  else ;  alas,  my 
poor  hatchet ! 

Jupiter  happened  then  to  be  holding  a 
grand  council  about  certain  urgent  affairs, 
and  old  Gammer  Cybele  was  just  giving 
her  opinion,  or  if  you  had  rather  have  it 
so,  it  was  young  Phoebus  the  Beau :  but 
in  short,  Tom's  outcry  and  lamentations 
were  so  loud  that  they  were  heard  with 
no  small  amazement  at  the  council-board 
by  the  whole  consistory  of  the  gods. 
What  a  devil  have  we  below,  quoth 
Jupiter,  that  howls  so  horridly  ?  By  the 
mud  of  Styx,  have  n't  we  had  all  along, 
and  have  n't  we  here  still,  enough  to  do  to 
set  to  rights  a  world  of  puzzling  busi- 
nesses of  consequence  ?  .  .  .  Let  us, 
however,  dispatch  this  howling  fellow  be- 
low ;  you,  Mercury,  go  see  who  it  is,  and 
know  what  he  wants.  Mercury  looked 
out  at  Heaven's  trap-door,  through  which, 
as  I  am  told,  they  hear  what's  said  here 
below ;  by  the  way,  one  might  well  enough 
mistake  it  for  the  scuttle  of  a  ship ;  thb' 
Icaromenippus  said  it  was  like  the  mouth 
of  a  well :  the  light-heeled  deity  saw  that 
it  was  honest  Tom,  who  asked  for  his  lost 
hatchet ;  and  accordingly  he  made  his  re- 
port to  the  Synod.  Marry,  said  Jupiter, 
we  are  finely  helped  up,  as  if  we  had  now 
nothing  else  to  do  here  but  to  restore  lost 
hatcheta.  Well,  he  must  then  have  it  for 


all  this,  for  so  'tis  written  in  the  Book  of 
Fate  (Do  you  hear?),  as  well  as  if  it  was 
worth  the  whole  Duchy  of  Milan.  The 
truth  is,  the  fellow's  hatchet  is  as  much 
to  him  as  a  kingdom  to  a  king.  Come, 
come,  let  no  more  words  be  scattered 
about  it,  let  him  have  his  hatchet  again. 
Run  down  immediately,  and  cast  at  the 
poor  fellow's  feet  three  hatchets ;  his 
own,  another  of  gold,  and  a  third  of  massy 
silver,  all  of  one  size :  then,  having  left 
it  to  his  will  to  take  his  choice ;  if  he 
take  his  own,  and  be  satisfied  with  it, 
give  him  t'  other  two.  If  he  take  another, 
chop  his  head  off  with  his  own ;  ana 
henceforth  serve  me  all  those  losers  of 
hatchets  after  that  manner.  Having  said 
this,  Jupiter,  with  an  awkward  turn  of 
his  head,  like  a  jackanapes  swallowing  of 
pills,  made  so  dreadful  a  phiz  that  all 
the  vast  Olympus  quaked  again.  Hea- 
ven's foot-messenger,  thanks  to  his  low- 
crowned,  narrow-brimmed  hat,  and  plume 
of  feathers,  heel-pieces,  and  running- 
stick  with  pigeon  wings,  flings  himself 
out  at  heaven's  wicket,  thro'  the  empty 
deserts  of  the  air,  and  in  a  trice  nimbly 
alights  on  the  earth,  and  throws  at  friend 
Tom's  feet  the  three  hatchets ;  saying  to 
him,  thou  hast  bawled  long  enough  to  be 
a  dry ;  thy  prayers  and  requests  are 
granted  by  Jupiter;  see  which  of  these 
three  is  thy  hatehet,  and  take  it  away 
with  thee. 

Wellhung  lifts  up  the  golden  hatchet, 
peeps  upon  it,  and  finds  it  very  heavy ; 
then  staring  on  Mercury  cries,  cods-zouks 
this  is  none  of  mine  ;  I  won't  ha  't.  The 
same  he  did  with  the  silver  one,  and  said, 
'tis  not  this  either,  you  may  e'en  take 
them  again.  At  last,  he  takes  up  his  own 
hatchet,  examines  the  end  of  the  helve, 
and  finds  his  mark  there  ;  then,  ravished 
with  joy,  like  a  fox  that  meets  some 
straggling  poultry,  and  sneering  from  the 
tip  of  the  nose,  he  cryed,  by  the  mass 
this  is  my  hatehet ;  Master  God,  if  you 
will  leave  it  me,  I  will  sacrifice  to  you  a 
very  good  and  huge  pot  of  milk,  brim 
full,  covered  with  fine  strawberries,  next 
Ides,  i.  e.,  the  15th  of  May. 

Honest  fellow,  said  Mercury,  I  leave  it 
thee,  take  it  ;  and  because  thou  hast 
wished  and  chosen  moderately,  in  point 
of  hatchet,  by  Jupiter's  command  I  give 
thee  these  two  others  ;  thou  hast  now 
wherewith  to  make  thyself  rich :  b« 
honest.  Honest  Tom  gave  Mercury  a 


14 


RABELAIS. 


whole  cartload  of  thanks,  and  revered  the 
most  great  Jupiter.  His  old  hatchet  he 
fastened  close  to  his  leathern  girdle,  and 
girds  it  about  his  breech  like  Martin  of 
Cambray;  the  two  others,  being  more 
heavy,  he  lays  on  his  shoulder.  Thus  he 
plods  on,  trudging  over  the  fields,  keep- 
ing a  good  countenance  amongst  his 
neighbors  and  fellow  parishioners,  with 
one  merry  saying  or  other  after  Patelin's 
way.  The  next  day,  having  put  on  a 
clean  white  jacket,  he  takes  on  his  back 
the  two  precious  hatchets,  and  comes  to 
Chinon,  the  famous  city,  noble  city,  an- 
cient city,  yea,  the  first  city  in  the  world, 
according  to  the  judgment  and  assertion 
of  the  most  learned  Massoreths.  In  Chi- 
non he  turned  his  silver  hatchet  into  fine 
testons,  crown-pieces,  and  other  white 
cash  ;  his  golden  hatchet  into  fine  angels, 
curious  ducats,  substantial  ridders,  span- 
kers, and  rose  nobles.  Then  with  them 
purchases  a  good  number  of  farms,  barns, 
houses,  out-houses,  thatch-houses,  stables, 
meadows,  orchards,  fields,  vineyards, 
wood?,  arable  lands,  pastures,  ponds, 
mills,  gardens,  nurseries,  oxen,  cows, 
sheep,  goats,  swine,  hogs,  asses,  horses, 
hens,  cocks,  capons,  chickens,  geese,  gan- 
ders, ducks,  drakes,  and  a  world  of  all 
other  necessaries,  and  in  a  short  time 
became  the  richest  man  in  all  the  coun- 
try. His  brother  bumpkins,  and  the  yeo- 
men and  other  country-puts  thereabouts, 
perceiving  his  good  fortune  were  not  a 
little  amazed,  insomuch  that  their  former 
pity  of  poor  Tom  was  soon  changed  into 
an  envy  of  his  so  great  and  unexpected 
rise;  and,  as  they  could  not  for  their 
souls  devise  how  this  came  about,  they 
made  it  their  business  to  pry  up  and 
down,  and  lay  their  heads  together,  to 
inquire,  seek,  and  inform  themselves  by 
what  means,  in  what  place,  on  what  day, 
what  hour,  how,  why,  and  wherefore,  he 
had  come  by  this  great  treasure. 

At  last,  hearing  it  was  by  losing  his 
hatchet,  ha,  ha !  said  they,  was  there  no 
more  to  do,  but  to  lose  a  hatchet,  to  make 
us  rich?  With  this  they  all  fairly  lost 
their  hatchets  out  of  hand.  The  devil  a 
one  that  had  a  hatchet  left ;  he  was  not 
his  mother's  son,  that  did  not  lose  his  hat- 
chet. No  more  was  wood  felled  or  cleared 
in  that  country  thro'  want  of  hatchets. 
Nay,  the  jEsopian  apologue  even  saith, 
that  certain  petty  country  gents,  of  the 
lower  class,  who  had  sold  Wellhung,  their 


little  mill  and  little  field,  to  have  where- 
withal to  make  a  figure  at  the  next  mus- 
ter, having  been  told  that  this  treasure  was 
come  to  him  by  that  means  only,  sold  the 
only  badge  of  their  gentility,  their  swords, 
to  purchase  hatchets  to  go  to  lose  them, 
as  the  silly  clodpates  did,  in  hopes  to  gain 
store  of  chink  by  that  loss. 

You  would  have  truly  sworn  they  had 
been  a  parcel  of  your  petty  spiritual 
usurers,  Rome-bound,  selling  their  all, 
and  borrowing  of  others  to  buy  store  of 
Mandates,  a  penny-worth  of  a  new-made 
pope. 

Now  they  cried  out  and  brayed,  and 
prayed  and  bawled,  and  lamented  and 
invoked  Jupiter;  my  hatchet!  my  hat- 
chet !  Jupiter,  my  hatchet ;  on  this  side, 
my  hatchet;  on  that  side,  my  hatchet, 
ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  Jupiter,  my  hatchet.  The 
air  round  about  rung  again  with  the  cries 
and  bowlings  of  these  rascally  losers  of 
hatchets. 

Mercury  was  nimble  in  bringing  them 
hatchets ;  to  each  offering  that  which  he 
had  lost,  as  also  another  of  gold,  and  a 
third  of  silver. 

Everywhere  he  still  was  for  that  of  gold, 
giving  thanks  in  abundance  to  the  great 
giver  Jupiter ;  but  in  the  very  nick  of 
time,  that  they  bowed  and  stooped  to  take 
it  from  the  ground,  whip  in  a  trice,  Mer- 
cury lopped  off  their  heads,  as  Jupiter 
had"  commanded ;  and  of  heads  thus  cut 
off,  the  number  was  just  equal  to  that  of 
the  lost  hatchets. 

You  see  how  it  is  now,  you  see  how  it 
goes  with  those  who  in  the  simplicity  of 
their  hearts  wish  and  desire  with  moder- 
ation. Take  warning  by  this,  all  you 
greedy,  fresh-water  shirks,  who  scorn  to 
wish  for  anything  under  ten  thousand 
pounds  :  And  do  not  for  the  future  run  on 
impudently,  as  I  have  sometimes  heard 
you  wishing,  would  to  God,  I  had  now 
one  hundred  and  seventy-eight  millions 
of  gold;  Oh!  howl  should  tickle  it  off? 
The  deuce  on  you,  what  more  might  a 
king,  an  emperor,  or  a  pope  wish  for? 
For  that  reason,  indeed,  you  see  that  after 
you  have  made  such  hopeful  wishes,  all 
the  good  that  comes  to  you  of  it  is  the 
itch  or  scab,  and  not  a  cross  in  your 
breeches  to  scare  the  devil  that  tempts 
you  to  make  these  wishes  ;  no  more  than 
those  two  mumpers,  one  of  whom  only 
wished  to  have  in  good  old  gold  as  much 
as  hath  been  spent,  bought  and  sold  in 


RABELAIS. 


15 


Paris,  since  its  first  foundations  were  laid, 
to  this  hour  ;  all  of  it  valued  at  the  price, 
sale,  and  rate  of  the  dearest  year  in  all 
that  space  of  time.  Do  you  think  the 
fellow  was  bashful ;  had  he  eaten  sour 
plums  unpeeled  ?  Were  his  teeth  on  edge, 
I  pray  you  ?  The  other  wished  our  lady's 
church  brimful  of  steel  needles,  from  the 
floor  to  the  top  of  the  roof,  and  to  have  as 
many  ducats  as  might  be  crammed  into  as 
many  bags  as  might  be  sewed  with  each 
and  every  one  of  these  needles,  till  they 
were  all  either  broke  at  the  point  or  eye. 
This  is  to  wish  with  a  vengeance  !  What 
think  you  of  it  ?  What  did  they  get  by 't, 
in  your  opinion?  Why,  at  night  both  my 
gentlemen  had  kybed-heels,  a  tetter  in 
the  chin,  a  church-yard  cough  in  the 
lungs,  a  catarrh  in  the  throat,  a  swinging 
boil  at  the  rump,  and  the  devil  of  one 
musty  crust  of  a  brown  George  the  poor 
dogs  had  to  scour  their  grinders  with. 
Wish  therefore  for  mediocrity,  and  it  shal) 
be  given  unto  you,  and  over  and  above 
yet ;  that  is  to  say,  provided  you  bestir 
yourselves  manfully,  and  do  your  best  in 
the  mean  time. 


HOW  PANTAGRUEL  MET  WITH  A 
GREAT  STORM  AT  SEA. 

[The  storm  here  described,  was  encountered  by  Pan- 
tagruel  and  his  friends  while  on  the  way  to  Lantern- 
land  to  consult  the  oracle  of  the  Holy  Bottle,  which 
bottle  is  supposed  to  represent  Truth,  the  figure  being 
derived,  probably,  from  the  fact  that  under  the  influ- 
ence of  wine  men  forget  their  craft  and  disguises  and 
speak  without  guile  or  insincerity.] 

THE  next  day  we  espied  nine  sail  that 
came  spooning  before  the  wind ;  they  were 
full  of  Dominicans,  Jesuits,  Capuchins, 
Hermite,  Austins,  Bernardins,  Celestins, 
Theatins,  Egnatins,  Amadeans,  Corde- 
liers, Carmelites,  Minims,  and  the  devil 
and  all  of  other  holy  monks  and  friars, 
who  were  going  to  the  Council  of  Chesil, 
to  sift  and  garble  some  Articles  of  Faith 
against  the  new  heretics ;  Panurge  was 
overjoyed  to  see  them,  being  most  certain 
of  good  luck  for  that  day,  and  a  long  train 
of  others.  So  having  courteously  saluted 
the  goodly  (blessed)  Fathers,  and  recom- 
mended the  salvation  of  his  precious  soul 
to  their  devout  prayers  and  private  ejac- 
ulations, he  caused  seventy-eight  dozen 
of  Westphalia  hams,  units  of  pots  of 
caviar,  tens  of  Bologna  sausages,  hun- 


dreds of  botargoes,  and  thousands  of  fine 
angels,  for  the  souls  of  the  dead,  to  be 
thrown  on  board  their  ships.  Pantagruel 
seemed  metagrabolized,  dozing,  out  of 
sorts,  and  as  melancholic  as  a  cat :  Friar 
John,  who  soon  perceived  it,  was  inquir- 
ing of  him  whence  should  come  this  unu- 
sual sadness?  When  the  master,  whose 
watch  it  was,  observing  the  fluttering  of 
the  ancient  above  the  poop,  and  seeing 
that  it  began  to  overcast,  judged  that  we 
should  have  wind ;  therefore  he  bid  the 
boatswain  call  hands  upon  deck,  officers, 
sailors,  fore-mast  men,  swabbers,  and 
cabin  boys,  and  even  the  passengers ; 
made  them  first  settle  their  topsails,  take 
in  their  spreet-sail,  then  he  cried,  In  with 
your  topsails,  lower  the  foresail,  tallow 
under  the  parrels,  brade  up  close  all  them 
sails,  strike  your  top-masts  to  the  cap, 
make  all  sure  with  your  sheeps-feet,  lash 
your  guns  fast.  All  this  was  nimbly  done. 
Immediately  it  blowed  a  storm,  the  sea 
began  to  roar,  and  swell  mountain-high  : 
the  rut  of  the  sea  was  great,  the  waves 
breaking  upon  our  ship's  quarter;  the 
north-west  wind  blustered  and  over- 
blowed  ;  boisterous  gusts,  dreadful  clash- 
ings  and  deadly  scuds  of  wind  whistled 
through  our  yards,  and  made  our  shrouds 
rattle  again.  The  thunder  grumbled  so 
horridly,  that  you  would  have  thought 
heaven  had  been  tumbling  about  our  ears ; 
at  the  same  time  it  lightened,  rained, 
hailed ;  the  sky  lost  its  transparent  hue, 
grew  dusky,  thick  and  gloomy,  so  that  we 
had  no  other  light  than  that  of  the  flashes 
of  lightning  and  rending  of  the  clouds : 
the  hurricanes,  flaws  and  sudden  whirl- 
winds began  to  make  a  flame  about  us  by 
the  lightnings,  fiery  vapors,  and  other 
aerial  ejaculations.  Oh!  how  our  looks 
were  full  of  amazement  and  trouble,  while 
the  saucy  winds  did  rudely  lift  up  above 
us  the  mountainous  waves  of  the  main. 
Believe  me,  it  seemed  to  us  a  lively  image 
of  the  chaos,  where  fire,  air,  sea,  land, 
and  all  the  elements  were  in  a  refractory 
confusion. 

Poor  Panurge,  having,  with  the  full 
contents  of  the  inside  of  his  doublet, 
plentifully  fed  the  fish,  greedy  enough  of 
such  odious  fare,  sat  on  the  deck  all  in  a 
heap,  most  sadly  cast  down,  moping  and 
half  dead ;  invoked  and  called  to  his 
assistance  all  the  blessed  he  and  she 
saints  he  could  muster  up,  swore  and 
vowed  to  confess  in  time  and  place  con- 


RABELAIS. 


venient,  and  then  bawled  out  frightfully, 
"Steward,  Maistre  cf  hostel,  see  hoe  I  my 
friend,  my  father,  my  uncle,  prythee  let's 
have  a  piece  of  powdered  beef  or  pork, 
we  shall  drink  but  too  much  anon,  for 
ought  I  see.  Eat  little  and  drink  the 
more  will  hereafter  be  my  motto,  I  fear. 
Would  to  our  dear  Lord  and  to  our  blessed, 
worthy,  and  sacred  Lady,  I  were  now,  I 
say,  this  very  minute  of  an  hour,  well  on 
shore,  on  terra  Jirma,  hale  and  easy.  O 
twice  and  thrice  happy  those  that  plant 
cabbages !  O  destinies,  why  did  you  not 
spin  me  for  a  cabbage-planter?  O  how 
few  are  they  to  whom  Jupiter  hath  been 
so  favorable  as  to  predestinate  them  to 
plant  cabbage!  They  have  always  one 
foot  on  the  ground,  and  the  other  not  far 
from  it.  Dispute  who  will  of  felicity, 
and  summum  bonum,  for  my  part,  whoso- 
ever plants  cabbage,  is  now  by  my  decree 
proclaimed  most  happy;  for  as  good  a 
reason  as  the  philosopher  Pyrrho  being 
in  the  same  danger,  and  seeing  a  hog 
near  the  shore  eating  some  scattered  oats, 
declared  it  happy  in  two  respects,  first, 
because  it  had  plenty  of  oats,  and  besides 
that,was  on  shore.  Hah,  for  a  divine  and 
princely  habitation,  commend  me  to  the 
cows'  floor. 

"  Murther !  This  wave  will  sweep  us 
away,  blessed  Saviour  !  O  my  friends !  A 
little  vinegar,  I  sweat  again  with  mere 
agony.  Alas,  the  mizzen  sail 's  split,  the 
gallery  ?s  washed  away,  the  masts  are 
sprung,  the  main-top-mast-head  dives  into 
the  sea ;  the  keel  is  up  to  the  sun ;  our 
shrouds  are  almost  all  broke,  and  blown 
away.  Alas !  Alas !  Where  is  our  main 
course  ?  All  ist  verloren  bei  Gott,  our  top- 
mast is  run  adrift.  Alas !  Who  shall 
have  this  wreck  ?  Friend,  lend  me  here 
behind  you  one  of  these  whales.  Your 
lanthorn  is  fallen,  my  lads.  Alas !  Don't 
let  go  the  main  tack  nor  the  bowlin.  I 
hear  the  block  crack,  is  it  broke?  For 
the  Lord's  sake,  let  us  save  the  hull,  and 
let  all  the  rigging  be  damned.  Be,  be,  be, 
bous,  bous,  bous.  Look  to  the  needle  of 
your  compass,  I  beseech  you,  good  Sir 
Astrophil,  and  tell  us,  if  you  can,  whence 
comes  this  storm.  My  heart's  sunk  down 
below  my  midriff.  By  my  troth  I  am  in 
a  sad  fright ;  bou,  bou,  bou,  bous,  bous,  I 
am  lost  forever.  I  conskite  myself  for 
mere  madness  and  fear.  Bou,  bou,  bou, 
bou,  otto,  to,  to,  to,  to,  ti.  Bou,  bou,  bou, 
ou,  ou,  ou,  bou,  bou,  bous.  I  sink,  I'm 


drowned,  I'm  gone,  good  people,  I'm 
drowned." 

Pantagruel,  having  first  implored  the 
help  of  the  great  and  almighty  Deliverer, 
and  prayed  publicly  with  fervent  devotion, 
by  the  pilot's  advice  held  tightly  the  mast 
of  the  ship.  Friar  John  had  stripped 
himself  to  his  waistcoat  to  help  the  sea- 
men. Epistemon,  Ponocrates,  and  the 
rest  did  as  much.  Panurge  alone  sat 
on  the  deck,  weeping  and  howling. 
"Odzooks!"  cried  Friar  John:  "What! 
Panurge  playing  the  calf!  Panurge 
whining  I  Panurge  braying !  Would  it 
not  become  thee  much  better  to  lend  us  a 
helping  hand,  than  to  keep  sitting  there 
like  a  baboon  and  lowing  like  a  cow  ?" 
"  Be,  be,  be,  bous,  bous,  bous,"  returned 
Panurge ;  (he  was  blubbering,  and  swal- 
lowing the  water  that  broke  over  them) — 
"  Friar  John,  iny  friend,  my  good  father, 
I'm  drowning ;  I  drown ;  I'm  a  dead  man, 
my  dear  father  in  God ;  I'm  a  dead  man, 
my  friend;  your  cutting  hanger  cannot 
save  me  from  this:  Alas!  alas!  we're 
above  E  la  (a  term  in  music),  above  the 
pitch,  out  of  tune,  and  off  the  hinges. 
Be,  be,  be,  bou,  bous.  Alas  I  we  're  now 
above  O  Sol  Re  Ui.  I  sink,  I  sink,  ha, 
my  father,  my  uncle,  my  all.  The  water's 
got  into  my  shoes  by  the  collar.  Bous, 
bous,  bous,  pash,  hu,  hu,  he,  he,  ha,  ha,  I 
drown.  Alas  I  alas !  hu,  hu,  hu,  hu,  hu, 
hu,  hu,  be,  be,  bous,  bous,  bobous,  bobous, 
ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  alas !  alas !  Now  am 
I  like  your  tumbler,  my  feet  stand  higher 
than  my  head.  Would  to  Heaven  I  were 
now  with  those  good  holy  fathers  we  met 
this  morning  going  to  council, — so  godly, 
so  fat,  so  merry,  so  plump  and  comely. 
Holos,  holos,  holas,  holas,  alas !  ah,  see 
there  1  This  devilish  wave  (God  forgive 
me)  I  mean  this  wave  of  Providence,  will 
sink  our  vessel.  Alas,  Friar  John,  my 
father,  my  friend ; — confess  me.  Here  I 
am  down  on  my  knees.  I  confess  my 
sins — your  holy  blessing." 

"  Come  hither  and  be  damned,  thou 
pitiful  devil  and  help  us,"  said  Friar  John, 
who  fell  a  swearing  and  cursing  like  a 
tinker;  "in  the  name  of  thirty  legions 
of  black  devils,  come,  will  you  come?" 
"  Don't  let  us  swear  at  this  time,"  said 
Panurge,  "  Holy  Father,  my  friend,  don't 
swear  I  beseech  you  ;  to-morrow  as  much 
as  you  please.  Holos,  holos,  alas!  our 
ship  leaks.  I  drown,  alas!  alas!  I  will 
give  eighteen  hundred  thousand  crowns 


RABELAIS. 


17 


io  any  one  that  will  set  me  on  shore  all 
berayed  and  bedawbed  as  I  am  now,  if 
ever  there  was  a  man  iii  my  country  in 
the  like  pickle.  Confiteor,  alas !  a  word 
or  two  of  testament  or  codicil  at  least." 

"A  thousand  devils  seize  the  cuckoldy 
cow-hearted  muugril,"  cried  Friar  John ; 
"Ods  belly,  art  thou  talking  here  of 
making  thy  will,  now  we  are  in  danger, 
and  it  behoveth  us  to  bestir  our  stumps 
lustily,  or  never.  Wilt  thou  come,  ho 
devil?  Midshipman,  my  friend,  O  the 
rare  lieutenant,  here  gymnast,  here  on  the 
poop.  We  are  by  the  mass,  all  up  now, 
our  light  is  out.  This  is  hastening  to  the 
devil  as  fast  as  it  can."  "Alas !  bou,  bou, 
bou,  bou,  bou,  alas!  alas!  alas!  alas!" 
said  Panurge,  "  was  it  here  we  were  born 
to  perish  ?  Oh !  hoh !  good  people,  I 
drown,  I  die.  Consummatum  est.  I  am 
sped."  "Magna,  gna,  gna,"  said  Friar 
John.  "  Fye  upon  him,  how  ugly  the 
driveling  howler  looks.  Boy,  younker, 
see  hoyh  !  Mind  the  pumps,  or  the  devil 
choke  thee.  Hast  thou  hurt  thyself? 
Zoons,  here,  fasten  it  to  one  of  these 
blocks.  On  this  side,  in  the  devil's  name, 
hay — so,  my  boy.1' 

'  Ah  Friar  John,"  said  Panurge,  "  good 
ghostly  father,  dear  friend,  don't  let  us 
swear,  you  sin.  Oh  ho,  oh  ho,  be,  be,  be, 
bous,  bous,  bhous,  I  sink,  I  die,  my  friends. 
I  die  in  charity  with  all  the  world.  Fare- 
well, in  manus.  Bohous,  bhous,  bhou- 
fowwauwaus.  St.  Michael  of  Aure  !  St. 
Nicholas  I  now,  now  or  never.  I  here 
make  you  a  solemn  vow  and  to  our  Sa- 
viour, that  if  you  stand  by  me  but  this 
time,  I  mean  if  you  set  me  ashore  out  of 
this  danger,  I  will  build  you  a  fine  large, 
little  chapel  or  two  between  Cande  and 
Monsoreau,  where  neither  cow  nor  calf 
shall  feed.  Oh  ho,  oh  ho.  Above  eighteen 
pailfuls  or  two  of  it,  are  got  down  my 
gullet :  bous,  bhous,  bhous,  bhous,  how 
damned  bitter  and  salt  it  is." 

"  By  the  virtue,"  said  Friar  John,  "  of 
the  blood,  the  flesh,  the  belly,  the  head,  if 
I  hear  thee  again  howling,  thou  cuckoldy 
cur,  I'll  maul  thee  worse  than  any  sea- 
wolf.  Ods  fish,  why  don't  we  take  him  up 
by  the  lugs,  and  throw  him  overboard  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea?  Here,  sailor,  ho 
honest  fellow.  Thus,  thus,  roy  friend, 
hold  fast  above. — In  truth  here  is  a 
sad  lightening  and  thundering ;  I  think 
that  all  the  devils  are  got  loose,  't  is  holy- 
day  with  'em,  or  else  Madame  Proserpine 
VOL.  n. — w.  H. 


is  in  child's  labor,  all  the  devils  dance  a 
morice." 

"  Oh,"  said  Panurge,  "  you  sin,  Friar 
John,  my  former  crony,  former,  I  say,  for 
at  this  time  I  am  no  more,  you  are  no 
more.  It  goes  against  my  heart  to  tell  it 
you ;  for  I  believe  this  swearing  doth  your 
spleen  a  great  deal  of  good ;  as  it  is  a 
great  ease  to  a  wood-cleaver  to  cry  hem, 
at  every  blow ;  and  as  one  who  plays  at 
nine  pins,  is  wonderfully  helped,  if,  when 
he  hath  not  thrown  hia  bowl  right,  and  is 
like  to  make  a  bad  cast,  some  ingenious 
stander-by  leans  and  screws  his  body  half 
way  about,  on  that  side  which  the  bowl 
should  have  took  to  hit  the  pins.  Never- 
theless you  offend,  my  sweet  friend.  But 
what  do  you  think  of  eating  some  kind  of 
cabirotadoes  ?  Would  n't  this  secure  us 
from  this  storm  ?  I  have  read  that  in  a 
storm  at  sea  no  harm  ever  befel  the  min- 
isters of  the  gods  Cabiri  so  much  cele- 
brated by  Orpheus,  Apollonius,  Phere- 
cides,  Strabo,  Pausanias,  and  Herodotus." 
"  He  doats,  he  raves,  the  poor  devil,"  said 
Friar  John.  "  A  thousand,  a  million,  nay, 
a  hundred  millions  of  devils  seize  the 
hornified  doddipole.  Lend 's  a  hand  here, 
hoh,  tiger,  wouldst  thou  ?  Here  on  the 
starboard  side;  ods  me,  thou  buffalo'* 
head  stuffed  with  relics,  what  ape's  Pater- 
Noster  art  thou  muttering  and  chattering 
here  between  thy  teeth  ?  That  devil  of  a 
sea-calf  is  the  cause  of  all  this  storm,  and 
is  the  only  man  who  doth  not  lend  a  help- 
ing hand.  By  G ,  if  I  come  near  thee, 

I'll  fetch  thee  out  by  the  head  and  ears 
with  a  vengeance,  and  chastise  thee  like 
any  tempestative  devil.  Here,  mate,  my 
lad,  hold  fast  till  I  have  made  a  double 
knot.  O  brave  boy  !  Would  to  heaven 
thou  wert  Abbot  of  Talemouze,  and  that 
he  that  is,  were  guardian  of  Croullay. 
Hold,  brother  Ponocrates,  you  will  hurt 
yourself,  man.  Epistemon,  pray  thee 
stand  off  out  of  the  hatchway.  Methinks 
I  saw  the  thunder  fall  there  just  now. 
Con  the  ship,  so  ho — mind  your  steerage. 
Well  said,  thus,  thus,  steady,  keep  her 
thus,  get  the  long  boat  clear — steady.  Ods 
fish,  the  beakhead  is  staved  to  pieces.  If 
this  be  weather,  the  devil 's  a  ram.  Nay. 

by  G ,  a  little  more  would  have  washed 

me  clear  away  into  the  current.  I  think 
all  the  legions  of  devils  hold  here  their 
provincial  chapter,  or  are  polling,  canvas- 
ing,  and  wrangling  for  the  election  of  a 
new  rector — starboard;  well  said.  Tak« 


RABELAIS. 


heed ;  have  a  care  of  your  noodle,  lad,  in 
the  devil's  name.  So  ho,  starboard,  star- 
board." 

"Be,  be,  be,  bous,  bous,  bous,"  cried 
Panurge,  "  bous,  bous,  be,  be,  be,  bous, 
bous,  I  am  lost.  I  see  neither  heaven  nor 
earth ;  of  the  four  elements  we  have  here 
only  fire  and  water  left,  bou,  bou,  bou, 
bous,  bous,  bous.  Would  it  were  the 
pleasure  of  the  worthy  Divine  Bounty, 
that  I  were  at  this  present  hour  in  the  close 
at  Seville,  or  at  Innocent's  the  pastry- 
cook, over  against  the  painted  wine  vault 
at  Chinon,  though  I  were  to  strip  to  my 
doublet,  and  bake  the  petti  pasties  myself. 

"  Honest  man,  could  not  you  throw  me 
ashore,  you  can  do  a  world  of  good  things, 
they  say.  I  give  you  all  Salmigondinois, 
and  my  large  shore  full  of  whelks, 
cockles,  and  periwinkles,  if  by  your  in- 
dustry I  ever  set  foot  on  firm  ground. 
Alas,  alas,  I  drown.  Hark  'ee,  my 
friends,  since  we  cannot  get  safe  into 
port,  let  us  come  to  an  anchor  into  some 
road,  no  matter  whither.  Drop  all  your 
anchors ;  let  us  be  out  of  danger  I  beseech 
you.  Here,  honest  tar,  get  you  into  the 
chains  and  heave  the  lead,  an  't  please 
you.  Let  us  know  how  many  fathom 
water  we  are  in.  Sound,  friend,  in  the 
Lord  Harry's  name.  Let  us  know 
whether  a  man  might  here  drink  easily 
without  stooping.  I  am  apt  to  believe 
one  might." 

"  Helm  a  lee,  hoh,"  cried  the  pilot. 
"  Helm  a  lee,  a  hand  or  two  at  the  helm, 
about  ships  with  her,  helm  a  lee,  helm  a 
lee, — stand  off  from  the  leech  of  the  sail, 
— Hoh,  belay,  here  make  fast  below,  hoh, 
helm  a  lee,  lash  sure  the  helm  a  lee,  and 
let  her  drive."  "  Is  it  come  to  that,"  said 
Pantagruel,  "  our  good  Saviour  then  help 
us."  Let  her  lie  under  the  sea,"  cried 
James  Brahier,  our  chief  mate,  "  let  her 
drive.  To  prayers,  to  prayers,  let  all 
think  on  their  souls,  and  fall  to  prayers  ; 
nor  hope  to  'scape  but  by  a  miracle." 
"  Let  us,"  said  Panurge,  "  make  some 
good  pious  kind  of  vow  ;  alas,  alas,  alas, 
bou,  bou,  be  be  be  bous,  bous,  bous,  oho, 
oho,  oho,  oho,  let  us  make  a  pilgrim ; 
come,  come,  let  every  man  club  his  penny 
towards  it,  come  on."  "  Here,  here,  on 
this  side,"  said  Friar  John,  "  in  the  devil's 
name.  Let  her  drive,  for  the  Lord's  sake 
unhang  the  rudder,  hoh,  let  her  drive,  let 
her  drive,  and  let  us  drink  I  say  of  the 
best  and  most  cheering,  d'  ye  hear, 


steward,  produce,  exhibit,  for  d'  ye  see 
this,  and  all  the  rest  will  as  well  go  to 
the  devil  out  of  hand.  A  pox  on  that 
wind-broker  ^Eolus,  with  his  flusterblus- 
ters ;  sirrah,  page,  bring  me  here  my 
drawer  (for  so  he  called  his  breviary), 
stay  a  little  here,  hawl  friend,  thus — 
Odzoons,  here 's  a  deal  of  hail  and  thunder 
to  no  purpose.  Hold  fast  above,  I  pray 
you.  When  have  we  All-Saints  Day  ?  I 
believe  'tis  the  unholy  holy  day  of  all  the 
devil's  crew." 

"  Alas,''  said  Panurge,  "  Friar  John 
damns  himself  here  as  black  as  butter- 
milk for  the  nonce.  Oh  what  a  gooa 
friend  I  lose  in  him.  Alas,  alas,  this  iu 
anothergats  bout  than  last  year's.  We 
are  falling  out  of  Scylla  into  Charybdis 
Oho !  I  drown,  confiteor,  one  poor  word 
or  two  by  way  of  testament.  Friar  John, 
my  ghostly  father,  good  Mr.  Abstractor, 
my  crony,  my  Achates,  Xenomanes,  my 
all.  Alas,  I  drown ;  two  words  of  testa- 
ment here  upon  this  ladder.  Oh,  if  I  was 
but  on  firm  land,  with  somebody  kicking 
me!  Good  Heaven,  send  me  some  dol- 
phin to  carry  me  safe  on  shore,  like  a 
pretty  little  Arion.  I  shall  make  shift  to 
sound  the  harp  if  it  be  not  unstrung." 

"  Come  hither  and  help  us,  thou  great 
weeping  calf/'  said  Friar  John,  "  or  may 
thirty  millions  of  devils  leap  on  thee  ; — 
wilt  thou  come,  sea  calf  ?  Fie,  how  ugly 
the  howling  whelp  looks.  What,  always 
the  same  ditty  ?  " 

"Shore!  shore!"  cried  Pantagruel. 
"  Land  to,  my  friends,  I  see  land  ;  pluck 
up  a  good  spirit,  boys,  'tis  within  a  ken- 
ning ;  so,  we  are  not  far  from  a  port.  I 
see  the  sky  clearing  up  to  the  northwards. 
Look  to  the  southeast !  "  "  Courage,  my 
hearts,"  said  the  pilot ;  "  now  she  '11  bear 
the  hullock  of  a  sail ;  the  sea  is  much 
smoother,  some  hands  aloft,  to  the  main- 
top,— put  the  helm  a-weather, — steady, 
steady ! " 

"That's  well  said,"  said  Friar  John, 
"  now  this  is  something  like  a  tanzy.  Me- 
thinks  the  storm  is  almost  over.  It  was 
high  time,  faith ;  however,  the  Lord  be 
thanked — our  devils  begin  to  scamper." 

"  Shorten  your  sails,"  said  the  pilot ; 
"  fetch  the  sounding  line,  we  must  double 
that  point  of  land,  and  mind  the  sands." 
We  are  clear  off  them,  said  the  sailors. 
"  Away  she  goes,"  quoth  the  pilot,  "  and 
so  doth  the  rest  of  our  fleet :  help  came 
in  good  season." 


RABELAIS. 


19 


"By  St.  John,"  said  Panurge,  "this  is 
spoke  somewhat  like:  O  the  sweet  word! 
There's  the  soul  of  music  in  it." 

"  Cheer  up/'  cried  out  Pantagruel ; 
"  cheer  up,  my  boys :  let 's  be  ourselves 
again :  do  you  see  yonder,  close  by  our 
ship,  two  barks,  three  sloops,  five  ships, 
eight  pinks,  four  yawls,  and  six  frigates 
making  towards  us,  sent  by  the  good 
people  of  the  neighboring  island  to  our 
relief.  But  who  is  this  Ucalegon  below, 
that  cries  and  makes  such  a  sad  moan  ? 
Were  it  not  that  I  hold  the  mast  firmly 
with  both  my  hands,  and  keep  itstraighter 
than  two  hundred  tacklings — I'd — "  "  It 
is,"  said  Friar  John,  "  that  poor  devil 
Panurge,  who  is  troubled  with  a  calfs 
ague  ;  he  quakes  for  fear  when  his  belly's 
full." 

"What  cheer  ho,  fore  and  aft?"  quoth 
Panurge.  "  Oh  ho !  All  is  well,  the 
storm  is  over.  I  beseech  ye,  be  so  kind 
as  to  let  me  be  the  first  that  is  set  on 
shore,  for  I  would  by  all  means  a  little 
untruss  a  point.  Shall  I  help  you  still  ? 
Here,  let  me  see,  I'll  coil  this  rope  ;  I  have 
plenty  of  courage,  and  of  fear  as  little  as 
may  be.  Give  it  me  yonder,  honest  tar. 
No,  no,  I  have  not  a  bit  of  fear.  Indeed, 
that  same  decumane  wave,  that  took  us 
fore  and  aft,  somewhat  altered  my  pulse. 
Down  with  your  sails,  well  said ;  how 
now,  Friar  John,  you  do  nothing?  Is  it 
time  for  us  to  drink  now  ?  Who  can  tell 
but  St.  Martin's  running  footman  may 
still  be  hatching  us  some  further  mischief? 
Shall  I  come  and  help  you  again?  Pork 
and  peas  choke  me,  if  I  do  not  heartily 
repent,  though  too  late,  not  having  fol- 
lowed the  doctrine  of  the  good  philoso- 
pher, who  tells  us,  that  to  walk  by  the 
sea,  and  to  navigate  by  the  shore,  are  very 
safe  and  pleasant  things ;  just  as  it  is  to 
go  on  foot  when  we  hold  our  horse  by  the 

bridle ha !  ha !  ha  !  by  G all  goes 

well.  Shall  I  help  you  here  too?  Let 
me  see,  I'll  do  this  as  it  should  be,  or  the 
devil 's  in  't. 

"  Let  her  sink  or  swim  a  God's  name, 
all's  one  to  Friar  John,  he  doth  nothing ; 
his  name  is  Friar  John  Do-little ;  for  all 
he  sees  me  here  a  sweating  and  puffing  to 
help,  with  all  my  might,  this  honest  tar, 
first  of  the  name.  Hark  you,  my  dear 
soul,  a  word  with  you — but,  pray,  be  not 
angry  ;  how  thick  do  you  judge  the  planks 
of  our  ship  to  be?"  "Some  two  good 
inches  and  upwards,"  returned  the  pilot. 


"  Don't  fear  Odskilderkins,1'  aaid  Panurge, 
"  it  seems  then  we  are  within  two  fingers 
breadth  of  damnation.  Is  this  one  of  the 
nine  comforts  of  matrimony?  Ah  !  dear 
soul,  you  do  well  to  measure  the  danger 
by  the  yard  of  fear.  For  my  part,  I  have 
none  on 't ;  my  name  is  William  Dread- 
nought. As  for  heart,  I  have  more  than 
enough  on  't ;  I  mean  none  of  your  sheep's 
heart ;  but  of  wolfs  heart,  the  courage  of 
a  bravo,  by  the  pavilion  of  Mars.  I  fear 
nothing  but  danger. 

"  Good  morrow,  gentlemen,"  said  Pan- 
urge,  "good  morrow  to  you  all :  you  are  in 
very  good  health,  thanks  to  Heaven,  and 
yourselves  ?  You  are  all  heartily  welcome, 
and  in  good  time.  Let  us  go  on  shore. — 
Here,  Coxen,  get  the  ladder  over  the 
gunnel,  man  the  sides,  man  the  pinnace, 
and  get  her  by  the  ship's  side. — Shall  I 
yet  lend  you  a  hand  here  ?  I  am  stark 
mad  for  want  of  business,  and  would  work 
like  any  two  yokes  of  oxen. — Truly  this  is 
a  fine  place,  and  these  look  like  a  very 

good  people Children,  do  you  want  me 

still  in  any  thing?  Do  not  spare  the 
sweat  of  my  body,  for  God-sake.  Adam 
(that  is  man)  was  made  to  labor  and  work, 
as  the  birds  were  made  to  fly.  Our  Lord's 
will  is  that  we  get  our  bread  with  the  sweat 
of  our  brows,  not  idling  and  doing  nothing 
like  this  tatterdemalion  of  a  monk  here, 
this  Friar  Jack,  who  is  fain  to  drink  to 

hearten  himself  up,  and  dies  for  fear. 

Rare  weather. — I  now  find  the  answer  of 
Anacharsis,  the  noble  philosopher,  very 
proper ;  being  asked  what  ship  he  reck- 
oned the  safest,  he  replied,  that  which  is 
in  the  harbor." 

"  He  made  yet  a  better  repartee,"  said 
Pantagruel,  "when  somebody  inquiring 
which  is  greater,  the  number  of  the  living, 
or  that  of  the  dead?  He  asked  them, 
amongst  which  of  the  two  they  reckoned 
those  that  are  at  sea  ?  Ingeniously  im- 
plying, that  they  are  continually  in  danger 
of  death,  dying  live,  and  living  die.  Por- 
tius  Cato  also  said,  that  there  were  but 
three  things  of  which  he  would  repent ; 
that  is,  if  ever  he  had  trusted  his  wife 
with  his  secrets,  if  he  had  idled  away  a 
day,  and  if  he  had  ever  gone  by  sea,  to  a 
place  which  he  could  visit  by  land." 

"  Friend  Panurge,"  said  Friar  John,  "  I 
pray  thee  never  be  afraid  of  water ;  thy 
life  for  mine,  thou  art  threatened  with  a 
contrary  element."  "  Ay,  ay,  replied  Pan- 
urge,  but  the  devil's  cooks  doat  some- 


20 


RABELAIS. 


times,  and  are  apt  to  make  horrid  blunders 
as  well  as  others,  often  putting  to  boil  in 
water,  what  was  designed  to  be  roasted  on 
the  fire ;  like  the  head  cooks  of  our  kit- 
chen, who  often  lard  partridges,  queests, 
and  stockdoves,  with  intent  to  roast  them, 
one  would  think,  but  it  happens  some- 
times, that  they  e'en  turn  the  partridges 
into  the  pot  to  be  boiled  with  cabbages, 
the  queests  with  leek  pottage,  and  the 
stock-doves  with  turnips.  But  hark  you 
me,  good  friends,  I  protest  before  this 
noble  company,  that  as  for  the  chapel 
which  I  vowed  to  Monsieur  St.  Nicholas, 
between  Conde  and  Monsoreau,  I  honestly 
mean  that  it  shall  be  a  chapel  of  rose- 
water,  which  shall  be  where  neither  cow 
nor  calf  shall  be  fed ;  but  between  you 
and  I,  I  intend  to  throw  it  to  the  bottom 
of  the  water."  "  Here  is  a  rare  rogue 
for  ye,"  said  Eusthenes  ;  "  here's  a  pure 
rogue,  a  rogue  in  grain,  a  rogue  enough, 
a  rogue  and  a  half.  He  is  resolved  to 
make  good  the  Italian  proverb,  Passato  il 
pericolo,  £  gabato  il  Santo  : 

The  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a  monk  would 

be; 
The  devil  was  well,  the  devil  a  monk  was  he. 


RABELAIS  IMITATES  DIOGENES. 
[From  the  Author's  Prologue  to  Book  III.] 

WHEN  Philip,  King  of  Macedon,  euter- 
prised  the  siege  and  ruin  of  Corinth,  the 
Corinthians  having  received  certain  in- 
telligence by  their  spies,  that  he  with  a 
numerous  army  in  battle  array  was  coming 
against  them,  were  all  of  them,  not  with- 
out cause,  most  terribly  afraid ;  and, 
therefore,  were  not  neglective  of  their 
duty,  in  doing  their  best  endeavors  to 
put  themselves  in  a  fit  posture  to  resist  his 
hostile  approach,  and  defend  their  own 
city.  Some  from  the  fields  brought  into 
the  fortified  places  their  movables,  cattle, 
corn,  wine,  fruit,  victuals  and  other  neces- 
sary provisions.  Others  did  fortify  and 
rampire  their  walls,  set  up  little  fortresses, 
bastions,  squared  ravelins,  digged  trenches, 
cleansed  countermines,  fenced  themselves 
with  gabions,  contrived  platforms,  emp- 
tied casemates,  barricaded  the  false 
brayes,  erected  the  cavalliers,  repaired  the 
contrescarpes,  plaistered  the  courtines, 
lengthened  ravelins,  stopped  parapets, 


mortised  barbacans,  new  pointed  the 
portcullises  with  fine  steel  or  good  iron, 
fastened  the  herses  and  cataracts,  placed 
their  sentries  and  doubled  their  patrol. 

Every  one  did  watch  and  ward,  and  not 
one  was  exempted  from  carrying  the 
basket.  Some  polished  corselets,  varn- 
ished backs  and  breasts,  cleaned  the  head- 
pieces, mailcoats,  brigandins,  salads,  hel- 
mets, murrions,  jacks,  gushets,  gorgets, 
hoguines,  brassars  and  cuissars,  corselets, 
haubergeons,  shields,  bucklers,  targets, 
greves,  gauntlets  and  spurs. 

Others  aiade  ready  bows,  slings,  cross- 
bows, pellets,  catapults,  migraines  or  fire- 
balls, firebrands,  balists,  scorpions,  and 
other  such  warlike  engines,  repugnatory, 
and  destructive  to  the  Helepolides. 

They  sharpened  and  prepared  spears, 
staves,  pikes,  brown  bills,  halberts,  long 
hooks,  lances,  zagages,  quarterstaves,  eel- 
spears,  partisans,  troutstaves,  clubs,  battle- 
axes,  maces,  darts,  dartlets,  glaves,  jave- 
lins, javelots,  and  truncheons. 

They  set  edges  upon  scimetars,  cut- 
lasses, badelairs,  back-swords,  tucka, 
rapiers,  bayonets,  arrow-heads,  dags,  dag- 

fers,  mandousians,  poniards,  whinyards, 
nives,  skenes,  chipping  knives,  and  rail- 
Ions. 

Diogenes  seeing  them  all  so  warm  at 
work,  and  himself  not  employed  by  the 
magistrates  in  any  business  whatsoever, 
he  did  very  seriously  (for  many  days  to- 
gether, without  speaking  one  word)  con- 
sider, and  contemplate  the  countenance 
of  his  fellow- citizens. 

Then  on  a  sudden,  as  if  he  had  been 
roused  up  and  inspired  by  a  martial  spirit, 
he  girded  his  cloak,  scarf-ways,  about  his 
left  arm,  tucked  up  his  sleeves  to  the 
elbow,  trussed  himself  like  a  clown 
gathering  apples,  and  giving  to  one  of  his 
old  acquaintance  his  wallet,  books,  and 
opistographs,1  away  went  he  out  of  town 
towards  a  little  hill  or  promontory  of 
Corinth  called  Craneum;  and  there  on 
the  strand,  a  pretty  level  place,  did  he 
roll  his  jolly  tub,  which  served  him  for  an 
house  to  shelter  him  from  the  injuries  of 
the  weather :  there,  I  say,  in  a  great  ve- 
hemency  of  spirit,  did  he  turn  it,  veer  it, 
wheel  it,  whirl  it,  frisk  it,  jumble  it,  shuffle 
it,  hurdle  it,  tumble  it,  hurry  it,  jolt  it, 
jostle  it,  overthrow  it,  evert  it,  invert  it, 


1  Papers  wrote  on  the  back,  as  well  as  foreaide,  and 
'oul,  for  present  use,  to  be  afterwards  blotted  out. 


RABELAIS. 


21 


subvert  it,  overturn  it,  beat  it,  thwack  it, 
bump  it,  batter  it,  knock  it,  thrust  it,  push 
it,  jerk  it,  shock  it,  shake  it,  toss  it,  throw 
it,  overthrow  it  up-side  down,  topsyturvy, 
tread  it,  trample  it,  stamp  it,  tap  it,  ting 
it,  ring  it,  tingle  it,  towl  it,  sound  it,  re- 
sound it,  stop  it,  shut  it,  unbung  it,  close 
it,  unstopple  it.  And  then  again  in  a 
mighty  bustle  he  bandied  it,  slubbered  it, 
hacked  it,  whittled  it,  wayed  it,  darted  it, 
hurled  it,  staggered  it,  reeled  it,  swinged  it, 
brangled  it,  tottered  it,  lifted  it,  heaved  it, 
transformed  it,  transfigured  it,  transposed 
it,  transplaced  it,  reared  it,  raised  it,  hoised 
it,  washed  it,  dighted  it,  cleansed  it,  rinsed 
it,  nailed  it,  settled  it,  fastened  it,  shackled 
it,  fettered  it,  levelled  it,  blocked  it,  tugged 
it,  tewed  it,  carried  it,  bedashed  it,  be- 
wrayed it,  parched  it,  mounted  it,  broach- 
ed it,  nicked  it,  notched  it,  bespattered  it, 
decked  it,  adorned  it,  trimmed  it,  gar- 
nished it,  gaged  it,  furnished  it,  bored  it, 
pierced  it,  tapped  it,  rumbled  it,  slid  it 
down  the  hill,  and  precipitated  it  from  the 
very  height  of  the  Craneum  ;  then  from 
the  foot  to  the  top  (like  another  Sisyphus 
with  his  stone)  bore  it  up  again,  and 
every  way  so  banged  it  and  belabored  it, 
that  it  was  ten  thousand  to  one  he  had 
not  struck  the  bottom  of  it  out. 

Which  when  one  of  his  friends  had 
seen,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  so  toil 
his  body,  perplex  his  spirit,  and  torment 
his  tub?  the  philosopher's  answer  was, 
that  not  being  employed  in  any  other 
office  by  the  Republic,  he  thought  it  ex- 
pedient to  thunder  and  storm  it  so  tem- 
pestuously upon  his  tub,  that  amongst  a 
people  so  fervently  busy  and  earnest  at 
work,  he  alone  might  not  seem  a  loitering 
slug  and  lazy  fellow.  To  the  same  pur- 
pose may  I  say  to  myself, — 

Tho'  I  be  rid  from  fear, 
I  am  not  void  of  care. 

For  perceiving  no  account  to  be  made  of 
me  towards  the  discharge  of  a  trust  of 
any  great  concernment,  and  considering 
that  through  all  the  parts  of  this  most 
noble  kingdom  of  France,  both  on  this 
and  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains, 
every  one  is  most  diligently  exercised  and 
busied  ;  some  in  the  fortifying  of  their 
own  native  countrv,  for  its  defence ; 
others,  in  the  repulsing  of  their  enemies 
by  an  offensive  war  ;  and  all  this  with  a 
policy  so  excellent,  and  such  admirable 
order,  so  manifestly  profitable  for  the 


future,  whereby  France  shall  have  its 
frontiers  most  magnifically  enlarged, 
and  the  French  assured  of  a  long  and 
well-grounded  peace,  that  very  little 
withholds  me  from  the  opinion  of  good 
Heraclitus,  which  affirmeth  war  to  be  the 
parent  of  all  good  things  ;  and  therefore 
do  I  believe  that  war  is  in  Latin  called 
bellum,  not  by  antiphrasis,  as  some  patch- 
ers  of  old  rusty  Latin  would  have  us  to 
think,  because  in  war  there  is  little  beauty 
to  be  seen ;  but  absolutely  and  simply ; 
for  that  in  war  (bellum  in  Latin)  appears 
all  that  is  good  and  graceful,  bon  and  bel 
in  French,  and  that  by  the  wars  is  purged 
out  all  manner  of  wickedness  and  deform- 
ity. For  proof  whereof  the  wise  and 
pacific  Solomon  could  no  better  represent 
the  unspeakable  perfection  of  the  divine 
wisdom,  than  by  comparing  it  to  the  due 
disposure  and  ranking  of  an  army  in 
battle  array,  well  provided  and  ordered. 

Therefore  by  reason  of  my  weakness 
and  inability,  being  reputed  by  my  com- 
patriots unfit  for  the  offensive  part  of 
warfare ;  and  on  the  other  side,  being  no 
way  employed  in  matter  of  the  defensive, 
although  it  had  been  but  to  carry  bur- 
dens, fill  ditches,  or  break  clods,  each 
whereof  had  been  to  me  indifferent,  I 
held  it  not  a  little  disgraceful  to  be  only 
an  idle  spectator  of  so  many  valorous, 
eloquent,  and  warlike  persons,  who  in  the 
view  and  sight  of  all  Europe  act  this  no- 
table interlude  or  tragicomedy,  and  not 
exert  myself,  and  contribute  thereto  this 
nothing,  my  all ;  which  remained  for  me 
to  do.  For,  in  my  opinion,  little  honor 
is  due  to  such  as  are  mere  lookers  on, 
liberal  of  their  eyes,  and  of  their  strength 
parsimonious;  who  conceal  their  crowns 
and  hide  their  silver;  scratching  their 
head  with  one  finger  like  grumbling 
puppies,  gaping  at  the  flies  like  tithe 
calves  ;  clapping  down  their  ears  like 
Arcadian  asses  at  the  melody  of  musi- 
cians, who  with  their  very  countenance* 
in  the  depth  of  silence  express  their  con- 
sent to  the  prosopopeia. 

Having  made  this  choice  and  election 
it  seemed  to  me  that  my  exercise  therein 
would  be  neither  unprofitable  nor  trouble- 
some to  any,  whilst  I  should  thus  set 
agoing  my  Diogenical  Tub. 


22 


RABELAIS. 


EPISTEMON'S  DESCENT  INTO  HELL. 

[After  Pantagruel  discomfited  the  three  hundred 
Giants  and  Loup  Gurou  their  Captain,  he  fails  to  find 
hiu  favourite  follower  Epistemon,  but  after  searching 
for  him  among  the  slain  and  wounded  he  is  discovered 
with  his  head  cut  off  as  hereafter  described. 


THIS  gigantal  victory  being  ended,  Pan- 
tagruel withdrew  himself  to  the  place  of 
the  Flaggons,  and  called  for  Panurge  and 
the  rest,  who  caine  unto  him  safe  and 
sound,  except  Eusthenes  (whom  one  of  the 
Giants  had  scratched  a  little  in  the  face, 
whilst  he  was  about  the  cutting  of  his 
throat)  and  Epistemon,  who  appeared  not 
at  all.  Whereat  Pantagruel  was  so  ag- 
grieved, that  he  would  have  killed  him- 
self. But  Panurge  said  unto  him,  Nay, 
Sir,  stay  a  while,  and  we  will  search  for 
him  among  the  dead,  and  find  out  the 
truth  of  all.  Thus  as  they  went  seeking 
after  him,  they  found  him  stark  dead, 
with  his  head  between  his  arms  all 
bloody.  Then  Eusthenes  cried  out,  Ah, 
cruel  Death !  hast  thou  taken  from  me 
the  perfectest  amongst  men  ?  At  which 
words  Pantagruel  rose  up  with  the  great- 
est grief  that  ever  any  man  did  see, 
said  to  Panurge,  Ha,  my  friend,  the  Pro- 
phecy of  your  two  Glasses,  and  the  Jave- 
lin Staff,  was  a  great  deal  too  deceitful. 
But  Panurge  answered,  My  dear  Bullies 
all,  weep  not  one  drop  more;  for,  he  be- 
ing yet  all  hot,  I  will  make  him  as  sound 
as  ever  he  was.  In  saying  this,  he  took 
the  head,  and  held  it  warm  that  the  wind 
might  not  enter  into  it.  Eusthenes  and 
Carpalim  carried  the  body  to  the  place 
where  they  had  banqueted,  not  out  of 
any  hope  that  ever  he  would  recover,  but 
that  Pantagruel  might  see  it. 

Nevertheless,  Panurge  gave  him  very 
good  comfort,  saying,  If  I  do  not  heal 
him,  I  will  be  content  to  lose  my  Head 
(which  is  a  Fool's  Wager)  leave  off  there- 
fore crying,  and  help  me.  Then  cleansed 
he  his  neck  very  well  with  pure  White- 
wine,  and,  after  that,  took  his  head, 
and  into  it  synapised  some  powder 
which  he  always  carried  about  him 
in  one  of  his  Bags.  Afterwards  he 
anointed  it  with  I  know  not  what  oint- 
ment, and  set  it  on  very  just.  Vein 
against  vein,  sinew  against  sinew,  and 
•pondyle  against  spondyle,  that  he  might 


not  be  wry-necked,  for  such  people  he 
mortally  hated ;  this  done,  he  gave  it 
round  about  some  fifteen  or  sixteen 
stitches  with  a  needle,  that  it  might  not 
fall  off  again ;  then,  on  all  sides,  and 
every  where,  he  put  a  little  ointment  on 
it,  which  he  called  Resuscitative. 

Suddenly  Epistemon  began  to  breathe, 
then  open'd  his  eyes,  yawn'd,  and  sneez'd. 
Whereupon  Panurge  said,  Now  certainly 
he  is  healed,  and  therefore  gave  him  to 
drink  a  large  full  glass  of  strong  White- 
wine,  with  a  sugar'd  toast.  In  this  fash- 
ion was  Epistemon  finely  healed,  only 
that  he  was  somewhat  hoarse  for  above 
three  weeks  together,  and  had  a  dry 
cough,  of  which  he  not  could  be  rid,  but 
by  the  force  of  continual  drinking.  And 
now  he  began  to  speak,  and  said  that  he 
had  seen  the  Devil,  had  spoken  with 
Lucifer  familiarly,  and  had  been  veri 
merry  in  hell,  and  in  the  Elysian  Fields  ; 
affirming  very  seriously  before  them  all, 
that  the  Devils  were  boon  companions, 
and  merry  fellows  :  but,  in  respect  of  the 
damned,  he  said  he  was  very  sorry  that 
Panurge  had  so  soon  called  him  back  into 
this  world  again ;  for,  said  he,  I  took 
wonderful  delight  to  see  them.  How  so, 
said  Pantagruel?  Because  they  do  not 
use  them  there,  said  Epistemon,  so  badly 
as  you  think  they  do.  Their  estate  and 
condition  of  living  is  but  only  changed 
after  a  very  strange  manner.  For  I  saw 
Alexander  the  Great  there  mending  old 
stockings,  whereby  he  got  but  a  very 
poor  living. 

Xerxes  was  a  Crier  of  Mustard. 

Romulus,  a  Salter  and  Patch  ex  of  Pat- 
tins. 

Numa,  a  Nail-smith. 

Tarquin,  a  Porter. 

Piso,  a  clownish  Swain. 

Sylla,  a  Ferry-man. 

Cyrus,  a  Cowherd. 

Themistocles,  a  Glass-maker. 

Epaminondas,  a  Maker  of  Looking- 
glasses. 

Brutus  and  Cassius,  Surveyors  of  Land. 

Demosthenes,  a  Vine-dresser. 

Cicero,  a  Fire-kindler. 

Fabius,  a  Threader  of  Patenotres. 

Artaxerxes,  a  Robe-maker. 

jEneas,  a  Miller. 

Achilles,  a  scald-pated  Maker  of  Hay- 
bundles. 

Agamemnon,  a  Lick-box. 

Ulysses,  a  Hay-mower. 


RABELAIS. 


Nestor,  a  Forester. 

Darius,  a  Gold-finder. 

Ancus  Martins,  a  Ship-trimmer. 

Camillm,  a  Foot-post.  . 

Marcellus,  a  Sheller  of  Beans. 

Drusus,  a  Taker  of  Money  at  the  Doors 
of  Play-houses. 

Scipio  Africanus,  a  Crier  of  Lee  in  a 
wooden  Slipper. 

Asdrubal,  a  Lanthorn-maker. 

Hannibal,  a  Kettle-maker,  and  Seller 
of  Egg-shells. 

Priamus,  a  Seller  of  old  Clouts. 

Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  a  Flayer  of  dead 
Horses. 

All  the  Knights  of  the  Round- Table 
were  poor  labouring  slaves,  einploy'd  to 
row  over  the  rivers  of  Cocytus,  Phlegeton, 
Styx,  Acheron,  and  Lethe,  when  Messieurs 
the  Devils  had  a  mind  to  recreate  them- 
selves upon  the  water;  as  on  the  like 
occasion  are  hired  the  boatmen  at  Lyons 
the  Gondoliers  of  Venice,  [and  the  Oars 
at  London]  but  with  this  difference,  that 
these  poor  Knights  have  only  for  their 
fare  a  Bob  or  Flirt  on  the  Nose,  and  in 
the  evening  a  morsel  of  coarse  mouldy 
Bread. 

Trajan  was  a  Fisher  of  Frogs. 

Antoninus,  a  Lacquey. 

Commodus,  a  Jet-maker. 

Pertinax,  a  Peeler  of  Walnuts. 

Lucullus,  a  Maker  of  Battles  and 
Hawks  Bells. 

Justinian,  a  Pedlar. 

Hector,  a  snap-sauce  Scullion. 

Paris,  a  poor  Beggar. 

Cambyses,  a  Mule-driver. 

Nero,  a  base  blind  Fiddler. 

Fierabras  was  his  Serving-man,  who 
did  him  a  thousand  mischievous  tricks, 
and  would  make  him  eat  of  the  brown 
bread  and  drink  of  the  turned  wine, 
when  himself  did  both  eat  and  drink  of 
the  best. 

Julius  Ccesar  and  Pompey  were  Boat- 
wrights  and  lighters  of  Ships. 

Valentine  and  Orson  did  serve  in  the 
Stoves  of  Hell,  and  were  Sweat-rubbers 
in  Hot-houses. 

Giglan  and  Govian  were  poor  Swine- 
herds. 

Jaffrey  with  the  great  Tooth  was  a 
Tinder-maker,  and  Seller  of  Matches. 

Godfrey  de  Bullion,  a  Hood  maker. 

Jason  was  a  Bracelet-maker. 

Don  Pietro  de  Castille,  a  Carrier  of  In- 
dulgences. 


Morgan,  a  Beer-brewer. 

Huon  of  Bourdeaux,  a  Hooper  of  Bar- 
rels. 

Pyrrhux,  a  Kitchen  Scullion. 

Antiochus,  a  Chimney-sweeper. 

Octavian,  a  Scraper  of  Parchment. 

Nerva,  a  Mariner. 

Pope  Julius  was  a  Crier  of  Pudding 
Pies;  but  he  left  off  wearing  there  his 
great  buggerly  Beard. 

John  of  Paris  was  a  Greaser  of  Boots. 

Arthur  of  Britain,  an  Ungreaser  of 
Caps. 

Pierce-Forest,  a  Carrier  of  Faggots. 

Pope  Boniface  VIII.  a  Scummer  of 
Pots. 

Pope  Nicholas  III.  a  Maker  of  Paper. 

Pope  Alexander,  a  Rat-catcher. 
*        *        *        *        *        *        * 

Ogier  the  Dane  was  a  Furbisher  of 
Armour. 

The  King  Tigranes,  a  Mender  of 
thatch'd  Houses. 

Galien  Restored,  a  Taker  of  Mold- 
warps. 

The  four  Sons  of  Aymon  were  all  Tooth- 
drawers. 

Pope  Calixtus  was  the  Barber  of 
Women. 

Pope  Urban,  a  Bacon-picker. 

Melusina  was  a  Kitchen-drudge  Wench. 

Mettabrune,  a  Laundress. 

Cleopatra,  a  Crier  of  Onions. 

Helen,  a  Broker  for  Chamber-maids. 

Semiramis,  the  Beggars  washer. 

Dido  sold  Mushroons. 

Panthesilea  sold  Cresses. 

Lucretia  was  an  Ale-house  keeper. 

Hortensia,  a  Spinstress. 

Livia,  a  Grater  of  Verdigreece. 

After  this  manner  those  that  had  been 
great  Lords  and  Ladies  here,  got  but  a 
poor  scurvy  wretched  livelihood  below. 
And,  on  the  contrary,  philosophers  and 
others,  who  in  this  world  had  been  al- 
together indigent  and  wanting,  were  great 
Lords  there  in  their  Turn.  I  saw  Dio- 
genes there  strut  it  out  most  pompously, 
and  in  great  magnificence,  with  a  rich 
purple  gown  on  him,  and  a  golden  scep- 
ter in  his  Right-hand.  And  which  is 
more,  he  would  now  and  then  make  Alex- 
ander the  Great  mad,  so  enormously 
would  he  abuse  him,  when  he  had  not 
well  patched  his  breeches  [stockings]  for 
he  used  to  pay  his  skin  with  sound 
Bastinados.  I  saw  Epictetus  there  most 
gallantly  apparell'd  after  the  French 


24 


RABELAIS. 


fashion,  sitting  under  a  pleasant  arbour, 
with  store  of  handsome  gentlewomen, 
frolicking,  drinking,  dancing,  and  mak- 
ing good  chear,  with  abundance  of 
Crowns  of  the  Sun.  Above  the  Lattice 
were  written  these  verses  for  his  de- 
vice: 

To  dance,  to  skip,  and  to  play, 
The  bt*t  White  and  Claret  to  swill, 

And  nothing  to  do  all  the  Day, 
But  rolling  in  Money  at  Will. 

When  he  saw  me,"  he  invited  me  to 
drink  with  him  very  courteously,  and  I 
being  willing  to  be  intreated,  we  tippled 
and  chopined  together  most  Theologically. 
In  the  mean  time  came  Oyrus  to  beg 
one  farthing  of  him  for  the  honour  of 
Mercury,  therewith  to  buy  a  few  onions 
for  his  supper.  No,  no,  said  Epictetus, 
I  do  not  use  in  my  alms -giving  to  be- 
stow farthings ;  hold,  thou  Varlet,  here's 
a  crown  for  thee,  be  an  honest  man. 
Cyrus  was  exceeding  glad  to  have  met 
with  such  a  booty.  But  the  other  poor 
rogues,  the  kings  that  are  there  below, 
as  Alexander,  Darius,  and  others,  stole  it 
away  from  him  by  night.  I  saw  Patelin 
the  treasurer  of  Rhadamanthus,  who  in 
cheapening  the  pudding-pyes  that  Pope 
Julius  cried,  asked  him,  How  much  a 
Dozen  ?  Three  Blanks,  said  the  Pope  : 
Nay,  said  Patelin,  three  blows  with  a 
cudgel ;  lay  them  down  here,  you  ras- 
cal, and  go  fetch  more.  The  poor  Pope 
went  away  weeping ;  who,  when  he  came 
to  his  master  the  pye-maker,  told  him 
that  they  had  taken  away  his  Pudding- 
pyes.  Whereupon,  his  Master  gave  him 
such  a  sound  lash  with  an  eel-skin,  that 
his  own  skin  would  have  been  worth 
nothing  to  make  Bag-pipe-bags  of.  I  saw 
Master  John  le  Maire  there,  personate  the 
Pope  in  such  fashion,  that  he  made  all 
the  poor  Kings  and  Popes  of  this  world 
kiss  his  feet;  and,  taking  great  state 
upon  him,  gave  them  his  benediction, 
saying,  Get  the  pardons,  rogues,  get  the 
pardons,  they  are  good  cheap :  I  absolve 
you  of  bread  and  pottage,  and  dispense 
with  you  to  be  never  good  for  any  thing. 
Then,  calling  Caillet  and  Triboulet,  to 
them  he  spoke  these  words,  My  Lords 
the  Cardinals,  dispatch  their  bulls,  to 
wit,  to  each  of  them  a  blow  with  a  cud- 
gel upon  the  reins.  Which  accordingly 
was  forthwith  performed. 

I  heard    Master    Francit    Villon    ask 


Xerxes,  How  much  the  mess  of  Mustard  ? 
A  farthing,  said  Xerxes.  To  which  the 
said  Villon  answered,  The  Deuce  take  thee 
for  a  villain  ;  as  much  of  square-ear'd 
wheat  is  not  worth  half  that  price  of  vict- 
uals ;  I  saw  the  Francarcher  de  Baignolet, 
who  was  one  of  the  Inquisition  against 
hereticks.  When  he  saw  Pierce- Forest 
making  water  against  a  wall,  on  which 
was  painted  the  fire  of  St.  Anthony,  he 
declared  him  a  heretick,  and  would  have 
caused  him  to  be  burnt  alive,  had  it  not 
been  for  Morgant,  who,  for  his  Profitiat 
and  other  small  fees,  gave  him  nine 
tuns  of  beer. 

Well,  said  Pantagruel,  reserve  all  these 
stories  for  another  time,  only  tell  us 
how  the  usurers  are  there  handled.  I 
saw  them,  said  Epistemon,  all  very  busily 
employ'd  in  seeking  of  rusty  pins  and 
old  nails  in  the  kennels  of  the  streets, 
as  you  see  poor  wretched  rogues  do  in 
this  world ;  but  the  Quintal,  or  hun- 
dred-weight of  this  old  iron-ware,  is 
there  valued  but  at  the  price  of  a  cantle 
of  bread ;  and  yet  they  have  but  a  very 
bad  dispatch  and  riddance  in  the  sale 
of  it :  Thus  the  poor  misers  are  some- 
times three  whole  weeks  without  eating 
one  morsel  or  crumb  of  bread,  and  yet 
work  both  day  and  night  looking  for  the 
Fair  to  come:  Nevertheless,  of  all  this 
labour,  toil,  and  misery,  they  reckon 
nothing ;  so  cursedly  active  they  are  in 
the  prosecution  of  that  their  base  calling, 
in  hopes  at  the  end  of  the  year,  to  earn 
some  scurvy  penny  by  it. 

Come,  said  Pantagruel,  let  us  now  make 
ourselves  merry  one  bout,  and  drink 
(my  lads)  I  beseech  you,  for  it  is  very 
good  drinking  all  this  month.  Then  did 
they  uncase  their  flaggons  by  heaps 
and  dozens,  and  with  their  Leaguer-pro- 
vision made  excellent  good  chear.  But 
the  poor  King  Anarchus  could  not  all 
this  while  settle  himself  towards  any  fit 
of  mirth ;  whereupon  Panurge  said,  Of 
what  trade  shall  we  make  my  Lord  the 
King  here,  that  he  may  be  skilful  in  the 
art,  when  he  goes  thither  to  sojourn 
amongst  all  the  Devils  of  Hell  ?  Indeed, 
said  Pantagruel,  that  was  well  advised  of 
thee,  do  with  him  what  thou  wilt :  I  give 
him  to  thee.  Grammercy,  said  Panurge, 
the  present  is  not  to  be  refused,  and  I  love 
it  from  you. 


RABELAIS. 


25 


RABELAIS  TO  THE  READER. 

"Rabelais  has   studied   much  and   looked 

about 
And  found  the  world  not  worth  one  serious 

thought. 
******* 

He  saw  what  beastly  farce  this  world  was 

grown, 

That  sense  and  all  humanity  were  gone. 
Reason  from  thee  ;  that  never  was  his  care; 
He  would  as  soon  Chop  Logic  with  a  Bear, 
But  for  the  laughing  part,  he  bids  thee  strain 
Laugh  only  so  to  show  thyself  a  Man. 

And  pray  thee  now,  vouchsafe  to  cast  an  eye 
On  what  ensues,  lay  all  conclusions  by. 
Let  not  his  book  your  indignation  raise 
It  means  no  harm,  no  poison  it  conveys, 
Except  on  point  of  laughter,  it  is  true 
'T  won't  teach  you  much :  It  being  all  his 

view 
To  inspire  with  mirth  the  hearts  of  those 

that  moan, 

And  change  to  laughter  the  effective  groan ; 
For  LAUGHTER  is  man's  property  alone 


THE  WONDERFUL  PHYSICIANS  AT 
THE  COURT  OF  QUEEN   WHIM. 

FROM   BOOK   V.   CHAPTER   XXI. 


Another  remov'd  the  tootli-ach  only 
with  washing  the  root  of  the  aching  tooth 
with  elder-vinegar,  and  letting  it  dry  hall 
an  hour  in  the  sun. 

Another,  the  gout,  barely  making  the 
gouty  person  shut  his  mouth,  and  open 
his  eyes. 

I  saw  another  surrounded  with  a  crowc 
of  two  sorts  of  women ;  some  were  young 
quaint,  clever,  neat,  pretty,  juicy,  tight 
brisk,  buxom,  kind-hearted,  and  as  righ 
as  my  leg,  to  any  man's  thinking.  The 
rest  were  old,  weather-beaten,  toothless 
blear-ey'd,  tough,  decrepit  hags.  We 
were  told  that  his  office  was  to  cast  anew 
those  she-pieces  of  antiquity,  and  make 
them  such  as  the  pretty  creatures  whom 
we  saw,  who  had  been  made  young  again 
that  day,  recovering  at  once  the  beauty 
shape,  size,  and  disposition,  which  the\ 
enjoy'd  at  sixteen,  except  their  heels,  thaf 
were  shorter  than  in  their  former  youth. 

As  for  their  counterparts,  the  old  mothei 
ecratch-tobies,  they  most  devoutly  waitec 


'or  the  blessed  hour,  when  the  batch  that 
was  in  the  oven  was  to  be  drawn,  that 
they  might  have  their  turns,  and  in  a 
mighty  haste  they  were  pulling  and  hawi- 
ng the  man  like  mad. 

The  officer  had  his  hands  full,  never 
wanting  patients.  Pantagrud  ask'd  him 
whether  he  could  also  make  old  men  young 
again  ?  He  said,  he  could  not.  But  the 
way  to  make  them  new  men,  was  to  get 
'em  to  marry  with  a  new-cast  female ;  for 
thus  they  caught  that  fifth  kind  of  Crinc- 
kams,  which  some  call  Pellade ;  in  Greek 
'O0.;afftc,  that  makes  them  cast  off  their 
old  hair  and  skin,  just  as  the  serpents  do  ; 
and  thus  their  youth  is  renew'd  like  the 
Arabian  Phcenix's.  This  is  the  true 
Fountain  of  Youth,  for  there  the  old  and 
decrepid  became  young,  active,  and  lusty. 

Just  so,  as  Euripides  tells  us,  lolausvf&B 
transmogrified ;  and  thus  Phaon,  for 
whom  kind-hearted  Sappho  run  wild, 
grew  young  again  for  Venus' s  use. 


PANTAGRUELIAN    PROGNOSTICA- 
TIONS. 

THE  MOST  CERTAIN,  TRUE,  AND  INFALLIBLE 
PANTAGRUELIAN  PROGNOSTICATION,  FOR 
THE  YEAR  THAT 'S  TO  COME,  AND  EVER 
AND  AYE.  CALCULATED  FOR  THE  BENE- 
FIT AND  NODIFICATION  OF  THE  GIDDY- 
BRAINED  AND  WEATHER-WISE  WOULD  BE'S. 

OF   THE  GOVERNOR  AND   LORD  ASCEND- 
ANT THIS  YEAR. 

WHATSOEVER  these  blindfolded  block- 
headly  fools,  the  astrologers,  of  Lovain, 
Norimberg,  Tubing,  and  Lyons,  may  tell 
ye,  don't  you  feed  yourselves  up  with 
whims  and  fancies,  nor  believe  there  is 
any  governor  of  the  whole  universe  this 
year  but  God,  the  Creator,  who  by  his 
divine  word  rules  and  governs  all;  by 
whom  all  things  are  in  their  nature,  pro- 
priety and  conditions,  and  without  whose 
preservation  and  governance  all  things  in 
a  moment  would  be  reduced  to  nothing, 
as  out  of  nothing  they  were  by  him  crea- 
ted. For  of  him  comes,  in  him  is,  and 
by  him  is  made  perfect  every  being,  and 
all  life  and  motion,  assays  the  evangelical 
trumpet,  my  lord  St.  Paul,  Rom.  the  llth. 

Therefore  the  ruler  of  this  year,  and  of 
all  others,  according  to  our  authentic 
solution,  will  be  God  Almighty.  And 
neither  Saturn,  nor  Mars,  nor  Jupiter,  nor 


26 


RABELAIS. 


any  other  planet,  nor  the  very  angels,  nor 
saints,  nor  men,  nor  devils,  shall  have  any 
virtue,  efficacy,  or  influence  whatsoever, 
unless  God  of  his  good  pleasure  gives  it 
them.  As  Avicen  says,  second  causes 
have  not  any  influence  or  action  whatso- 
ever, if  the  first  cause  did  not  influence 
them.  Does  not  the  good  little  mannikin 
speak  truth,  think  ye  ? 

OF  THE  ECLIPSES  THIS  YEAK. 

This  year  there  will  he  so  many  eclipses 
of  the  sun  and  moon,  that  I  fear  (not  un- 
justly) our  pockets  will  suffer  inanition, 
he  full  empty,  and  our  feeling  at  a  loss. 
Saturn  will  be  retrograde,  Venus  direct, 
Mercury  as  unfixed  as  quicksilver.  And 
a  pack  of  planets  won't  go  as  you  would 
have  them. 

For  this  reason  the  crabs  will  go  side- 
long, and  the  rope-makers  backward ;  the 
little  stools  will  get  upon  the  benches, 
and  the  spits  on  the  racks,  and  the  bands 
on  the  hats ;  fleas  will  be  generally  black ; 
bacon  will  run  away  from  peas  in  lent ; 
there  won't  be  a  bean  left  in  a  twelfth 
cake,  nor  an  ace  in  a  flush  ;  the  dice  won't 
run  as  you  wish,  tho'  you  cog  them,  and 
the  chance  that  you  desire  will  seldom 
come;  brutes  shall  speak  in  several 
places ;  Shrovetide  will  have  its  day ;  one 
part  of  the  world  shall  disguise  itself  to 
gull  and  chouse  the  other,  and  run  about 
the  streets  like  a  parcel  of  addle-pated 
animals  and  mad  devils;  such  a  hurly- 
burly  was  never  seen  since  the  devil  was 
a  little  boy;  and  there  will  be  above 
seven  and  twenty  irregular  verbs  made 
this  year,  if  Priscian1  don't  hold  them  in. 
If  God  don't  help  us,  we  shall  have  our 
hands  and  hearts  full. 

OF  THE  DISEASES  THIS  YEAB. 

This  year  the  stone-blind  shall  see  but 
very  little ;  the  deaf  shall  hear  but  scur- 
vily ;  the  dumb  shan't  speak  very  plain ; 
the  rich  shall  be  somewhat  in  a  oetter 
case  than  the  poor,  and  the  healthy  than 
the  sick.  Whole  flocks,  herds,  and  droves 
of  sheep,  swine  and  oxen;  cocks  and 
hens,  ducks  and  drakes,  geese  and  gand- 
ers, shall  go  to  pot;  but  the  mortality 


'  Priscian  Is  here  put  for  grammar  In  general,  and  In 
particular  for  the  French  grammar,  so  subject  to 
change*  especially  in  the  verbs,  at  that  time. 


will  not  be  altogether  so  great  among 
apes,  monkeys,  baboons  and  dromedaries. 
As  for  old  age,  't  will  be  incurable  this 
year,  because  of  the  years  past.     Those 
who  are  sick  of  the  pleurisy  will  feel  a 
plaguy  stitch  in  their  sides  ;  catarrhs  this 
year  shall  distill  from  the  brain  on  the 
lower  parts ;  sore  eyes  will  by  no  means 
help  the  sight ;  ears  shall  be  at  least  as 
scarce  and  short  in  Gascony,  and  among 
knights  of  the  post,  as  ever;  and  a  most 
horrid  and  dreadful,  virulent,  malignant, 
catching,   perverse  and  odious  malady, 
shall    be    almost    epidemical,  insomuch 
I  that  many  shall  run  mad  upon  it,  not 
I  knowing  what  nails  to  drive  to  keep  the 
:  wolf  from  the  door,  very  often  plotting, 
contriving,  cudgeling  and  puzzling  their 
:  weak  shallow  brains,  and  syllogizing  and 
I  prying  up  and  down  for  the  philosopher's 
!  stone,  tho*  they  only  get  Midas's  lugs  by 
the  bargain.     I  quake  for  very  fear  when 
I  think  on  't;  for  I  assure  you,  few  will 
escape  this  disease,  which  Averroes  calls 
\  lack  of  money,  and  by  consequence  of  the 
last  year's  comet,  and  Saturn's  retrogra- 
dation,  there  will  be  a  horrid  clutter  be- 
tween the  cats  and  the  rats,  hounds  and 
hares,  hawks  and  ducks,  and  eke  between 
the  monks  and  eggs. 

OF  THE  FRUITS  OF  THE  EARTH  THIS 
YEAR. 

I  find  by  the  calculations  of  Albumazar1 
i  in  his  book  of  the  great  conjunction,  and 
elsewhere,  that  this  will  be  a  plentiful 
1  year  of  all  manner  of  good  things  to  those 
j  who  have  enough ;  but  your  hops  of  Pi- 
|  cardy  will  go  near  to  fare  the  worse  for 
the  cold.  As  for  oats  they  '11  be  a  great 
help  to  horses.  I  dare  say,  there  won't 
be  much  more  bacon  than  swine.  Pisces 
having  the  ascendant,  't  will  be  a  mighty 
year  for  muscles,  cockles,  and  periwin- 
kles. Mercury  somewhat  threatens  our 
parsly-beds,  yet  parsly  will  be  to  be 
had  for  money.  Hemp  will  grow  faster 
than  the  children  of  this  age,  and  some 
will  find  there's  but  too  much  on't.  There 
will  be  a  very  few  bon-chretiens,  but  choak- 
pears  in  abundance.  As  for  corn,  wine, 
fruit  and  herbs,  there  never  was  such 
plenty  as  will  be  now,  if  poor  folks  may 
have  their  wish. 


1  An  Arabian  philosopher  and  astrologer,  who  lired 
about  the  year  910  of  the  Christian  «r». 


RABELAIS. 


OF  THE  DISPOSITION  OF  THE  PEOPLE 
THIS  YEAR. 

'T  is  the  oddest  whimsy  in  the  world,  to 
fancy  there  are  stars  for  kings,  popes,  and 
great  dons,  any  more  than  for  the  poor 
and  needy.  As  if,  forsooth,  some  new 
stars  were  made  since  the  flood,  or  since 
Komulus  or  Pharamond,  at  the  making 
somebody  king;  a  thing  that  Triboulet 
or  Caillette1  would  have  been  ashamed  to 
have  said,  and  yet  they  were  men  of  no 
common  learning  or  fame ;  and  for  ought 
you  or  I  know,  this  same  Triboulet  may 
have  been  of  the  kings  of  Castille's  blood 
in  Noah's  ark,  and  Caillette  of  that  of 
King  Priam.2  Now,  mark  ye  me,  those 
odd  notions  come  from  nothing  in  the 
world,  but  want  of  faith:  I  say,  the  true 
Catholic  faith.  Therefore  resting  fully 
satisfied  that  the  stars  care  not  a  fig  more 
for  kings  than  for  beggars,  nor  a  jot  more 
for  your  rich  topping  fellows,  than  for 
the  most  sorry,  mangy,  lousy  rascal ;  I'll 
e'en  leave  other  addle-pated  fortune-tell- 
ers to  speak  of  the  great  folks,  and  I  will 
only  talk  of  the  little  ones. 

And  in  the  first  place,  of  those  who  are 
subject  to  Saturn;  as  for  example,  such 
as  lack  the  ready,  jealous  or  horn-mad 
self-tormenting  prigs,  dreaming  fops, 
crabbed  eaves-droppers,  raving  doting 
churls,  hatchers  and  brooders  of  mischief, 
suspicious  distrustful  slouches,  mole- 
catchers,*  close-fisted  griping  misers,  usu- 
rers and  pawnbrokers,  Christian-jews, 
pinch-crusts,  hold-fasts,  michers  and  pen- 
ny-fathers ;  redeemers  of  dipt,  mortgaged, 
and  bleeding  copy-holds  and  messuages, 
fleecers  of  sheared  asses,  shoe-makers  and 
translators,  tanners,  bricklayers,  bell- 
founders,  compounders  of  loans,  patchers, 
clowters,  and  botchers  of  old  trumpery 
stuff,  and  all  moping  melancholic  folks, 
shall  not  have  this  year  whatever  they'd 
have ;  and  will  think  more  than  once  how 


'  Triboulet  or  Caillette,  two  court-fools. 

*  He  jokei  upon  those  writers  who  very  orderly  trace 
the  genealogy  of  the  kings  of  Spain  up  to  Adam,  and 
deduce  the  descent  of  the  kings  of  France  from  King 
Priam. 

8  Mole-catchers,  avaricious  money-hunters,  who,  In 
order  to  come  at  riches,  which  the  earth  contains  in  its 
bowels,  never  cease  digging  and  delving,  as  it  were, 
like  the  ancient  French  miners,  called  Franc-taupin 
(from  3Wpo,»  mole). 


they  may  get  good  store  of  the  king's  pic- 
tures '  into  their  clutches ;  in  the  mean- 
time they'll  hardly  throw  shoulders  of 
mutton  out  at  the  windows,  and  will  often 
scratch  their  working  noddles  where  they 
do  not  itch. 

As  for  those  who  are  under  Jupiter,  as 
canting-vermin,  bigots,  pardon-peddlers, 
voluminous  abbreviators,  scribblers  of 
breves,  copists,2  pope's  bull-makers,  da- 
taries,  pettifoggers,  capuchins,  monks, 
hermits,  hypocrites,  cushion  thumping 
mountebanks,  spiritual  comedians,  forms 
of  holiness,  pater-noster-faces,  wheedling 
gablers,  wry-necked-scoundrels,  spoilers 
of  paper,  stately  gulls/  notched  cropt- 
eared  meacocks*  public  register's  clerks, 
wafer-makers,  rosary-makers,  engrossers 
of  deeds,  notaries,  grave-bubbles,  prote- 
coles,  and  prompters  to  speakers,  deceitful 
makers  of  promises,  shall  fare  according 
as  they  have  money.  So  many  clergymen 
will  die,  that  there  will  not  be  enough 
found  on  whom  their  benefices  may  be 
conferred,  so  that  many  will  hold  two, 
three,  four,  or  more.  The  tribe  of  hypo- 
crites shall  lose  a  good  deal  of  its  ancient 
fame,  since  the  world  is  grown  a  rake, 
and  will  not  be  fooled  much  longer,  as 
Avenzagel  saith. 

Those  who  are  under  Mars,  as  hang- 
men, cut-throats,  dead-doing  fellows,  free- 
booters, hedge-birds,  footpads,  and  high- 
waymen, catch-poles,  bum-bailiffs,  beadles 
and  watchmen,  reformadoes,  tooth-draw- 
ers and  corn-cutters,  pintle-smiths,  sha- 
vers and  frig-beards,  butchers,  coiners, 
paltry-quacks  and  mountebanks,  rene- 
gadoes,  apostates  and  marranized  mis- 
creants, incendiaries  or  boutefeus,  chim- 
ney-sweepers, boorish  cluster-fists,  char- 
coal-men, alchemists,  merchants  of  eel- 
skins  and  egg-shells,  gridiron  and  rattle- 
makers,  cooks,  paltry  peddlers,  trash- 
mongers  and  spangle-makers,  bracelet- 
makers,  lantern-makers  and  tinkers, 
this  year  will  do  fine  things ;  but  some  of 


1  Coins  or  money. 

*  Copyists,  petty  scribes  in  the  Court  of  Borne,  who 
copy  the  bulls  in  order  for  engrossing. 

*  According  to  M.  de  Chat,  a  stately  gull  li  a  chief  in 
a  court  of  judicature,  who  in  like  manner  as  a  taster 
'un  preguite)  takes  the  essay  of  meats  with  his  tongue, 
sums  up  and  presents  the  opinion  of  the  other  judge* 
Defore  he  declares  his  own. 

*  Crop-haired,  without  a  periwig 


S8 


RABELAIS. 


them  will  be  somewhat  subject  to  be  rib- 
roasted,  and  have  a  St.  Andrew's  cross 
scored  over  their  jobbernols  at  unawares. 
This  year  one  of  those  worthy  persons 
will  go  nigh  to  be  made  a  field-bishop, 
and,  mounted  on  a  horse  that  was  foaled 
of  an  acorn,  give  the  passengers  a  blessing 
with  his  legs. 

Those  who  belong  to  Sol,  as  topers, 
quaffers,  whipcans,  tosspots,  whittled, 
mellow,  cup-shotten  swillers,  merry- 
Greeks  with  crimson  snouts  of  their  own 
dyeing;  fat,  pursy  gorbellies, brewers  of 
wine  and  of  beer,  bottlers  of  hay,  porters, 
mowers,  menders  of  tiled,  slated,  and 
thatched  houses,  burthen-bearers,  patch- 
era,  shepherds,  ox-keepers,  and  cow- 
herds, swine-herds,  and  hog-drivers, 
fowlers  and  bird-catchers,  gardeners,  barn- 
keepers,  hedgers,  common  mumpers  and 
vagabonds,  day-laborers,  scourers  of 
greasy  thrum-caps,  staffers  and  bum- 
basters  of  pack-saddles,  rag-merchants, 
idle  lusks,  slothful  idlebies,  and  drowsy 
loiterers,  smell-feasts,  and  snap-gobbets, 
gentlemen  generally  wearing  shirts  with 
neck-bands,  or  heartily  desiring  to  wear 
such  ;  all  these  will  be  hale  and  sharp  set, 
and  not  troubled  with  the  gout  at  the 
grinders,  or  a  stoppage  at  the  gullet,  when 
at  a  feast  on  free-cost. 

Those  whom  Venus  is  said  to  rule,  will 
be  famous  this  year.  But  when  the  sun 
enters  Cancer,  and  other  signs,  let  them 
beware. 

As  for  those  who  come  under  Mercury, 
as  sharpers,  rooks,  cozeners,  setters,  as 
sherks,  cheats,  pickpockets,  divers,  but- 
tocking-foils,  thieves,  millers,  night- 
walkers,  masters  of  arts,  decretists,  pick- 
locks, deer-stealers,  hedge  rhymers,  com- 
posers of  serious  doggerel  metre,  merry- 
andrews,  jack-puddings,  tumblers,  masters 
in  the  art  of  hocus-pocus,  legerdemain, 
and  powder  of  prelinpinpin ;  such  as 
break  Priscian's  head,  quibblers  and  pun- 
sters, stationers,  paper-makers,  card- 
makers  and  pirates,  will  strive  to  appear 
more  merry  than  they  '11  often  be ;  some- 
times they  '11  laugh  without  any  cause, 
and  will  be  pretty  apt  to  be  blown  up 
and  march  off,  if  they  find  themselves 
better  stored  with  chink  than  they  should 
be. 

Those  who  belong  to  Madam  Luna,  as 
hawkers  of  almanacs  and  pamphlets, 
huntsmen,  ostrich-catchers,  falconers, 
couriers,  salt  carriers,  lunatics,  maggotty 


fools,  crack-brained  coxcombs,  addle- pated 
frantic  wights,  giddy,  whimsical  foplings, 
ex  change- brokers,  post-boys,  foot-boys, 
tennis-court-keepers'  boys,  glass-mongers, 
light-horse,  watermen,  mariners,  messen- 
gers, rakers  and  gleaners,  will  not  long 
stay  in  a  place  this  year.  However,  so 
many  swag-bellies  and  puff-bags  will 
hardly  go  to  St.  Hiacco,1  as  there  did  in 
the  year  524.2  Great  numbers  of  pilgrims3 
will  come  down  from  the  mountains  of 
Savoy  and  Auvergne,  but  Sagittarius  aore- 
ly  threatens  them  with  kibed  heels. 

THE  FOUR  SEASONS  OF  THE  YEAR. 
OF  THE  SPRING. 

IN  all  this  year's  revolution  there  will 
be  but  one  moon,  neither  will  it  be  new. 
I  dare  warrant,  you  are  damnably  down 
o'  the  mouth  about  it ;  you  who  don't  be- 
lieve in  God,  and  persecute  his  holy  and 
divine  word,  as  also  those  that  stand  up 
for  it.  But  you  may  e'en  hang  yourselves 
out  of  the  way ;  I  tell  you  there  will  never 
be  any  other  moon  than  that  which  God 
created  in  the  beginning  of  the  world,  and 
which  was  placed  in  the  sky  to  light  and 
guide  mankind  by  night.  But,  in  good 
sooth,  I'll  not  infer  thence  that  it  never 
shows  to  the  earth  and  earthly  people  a 
decrease  or  increase  of  its  light,  according 
as  it  is  nearer  the  sun  or  further  from  it. 
No,  no ;  why  should  I  say  this  ?  For, 
wherefore,  because,  however,  notwith- 
standing, that,  &c.,  and  let  none  of  you 
hereafter  pray  that  heaven  may  keep  her 
from  the  wolves  ;  for  they  '11  not  meddle 
with  her  this  twelve  months,  I'll  warrant 
you.  A  propos,  now  I  think  on  't,  you  '11 
see  as  many  flowers  again  this  season  as 
in  all  the  other  three ;  neither  shall  that 
man  be  thought  a  fool,  who  '11  have  wit 


ames  in  Galicia. 

*  There  had  been  published  many  predictions,  which, 
on  account  of  the  grand  conjunction  of  Saturn,  Jupiter 
and  Mara,  in  the  sign  of  pisces  in  1524,  did  declare  there 
would  be  in  February  that  year  a  second  universal 
deluge :  there  needed  no  more  to  send  the  Germans,  at 
that  time  very  much  addicted  to  pilgrimaging,  in  shoale 
to  St.  James  in  Galicia. 

8  Pilgrims.  Sfiquelot*  in  the  original.  Toung  people 
who  were  wont  to  go  in  pilgrimage  to  St.  MichaeJ 
(thonce  their  name  Miqnelote,  I  suppose).  The«e 
occasioned  the  proverb,  little  beggars  go  to  St.  Michael 
great  ones  to  t-t.  James. 


RABELAIS. 


enough  to  lay  by  money,  and  get  together 
more  of  it  this  quarter  than  he  will  do  of 
cobwebs1  in  the  whole  year. 

The  Griffons,3  and  Marrons  (men  who 
make  their  ways  passable  in  great  snows, 
and  dwell  on  the  mountains  of  Savoy,  and 
Dauphine),  and  the  Hyperboreans,  that 
are  perpetually  furred  with  snow,  are  to 
miss  this  season,  and  have  none  on  't ;  for 
Avicenna  tells  us,  't  is  not  spring  till  the 
snow  does  melt  away  on  the  mountains. 
Believe  the  liar.  I  have  known  the  time 
when  men  reckoned  ver,  or  the  spring,  to 
begin  when  the  sun  entered  into  the  first 
degree  of  Aries.  If  they  reckon  it  other- 
wise now,  I  knock  under,  and  mum 's  the 
word. 

OF  SUMMER. 

IN  the  summer  I  can 't  justly  tell  you 
what  kind  of  wind  will  blow  ;  but  this  I 
know,  that  it  ought  to  be  warm  weather 
then,  and  now  and  then  a  sea  breeze. 
However,  if  things  should  fall  out  other- 
wise, you  must  be  sure  not  to  curse  God ; 
for  he  is  wiser  than  we,  and  knows  what 
's  fit  for  us  far  better  than  we  ourselves, 
you  may  take  my  word  for  it,  whatever 
Haly*  and  his  gang  may  have  said.  It 
will  be  a  delicious  thing  to  be  merry,  and 
drink  cool  wine,  though  some  have  said 
there  is  nothing  more  contrary  to  thirst. 
I  believe  it ;  and,  indeed,  contraria  con- 
trariis  curantur. 

OF  AUTUMN. 

IN  autumn  men  will  make  wine,  or  be- 
fore or  after  it ;  't  is  all  one  to  me,  so  we 
have  but  good  bub  and  Nippitati  enough. 
As  for  those  men  and  women  who  have 
vowed  to  fast  till  the  stars  be  in  the 
heavens,  they  may  e'en  from  this  present 
hour  begin  to  feed  like  farmers  by  my 
particular  grant  and  dispensation.  Nei- 
ther do  they  begin  of  the  soonest ;  for 
those  pretty  twinkling  things  have  been 
fixed  there  above  sixteen  thousand  and  I 
can  't  tell  how  many  days,  and  stuck  into 

1  Cobwebs.  It  should  be  herrings,  Aranet :  though 
some  editions  have  it  Araignet.  If.  D.  C.  says,  Rabelais 
bere  means,  that  in  the  spring  people  had  better  keep 
their  money,  than  lay  it  out  in  herrings,  which  are 
good  for  nothing  in  that  season  of  the  year. 

*  Grifoni.     Gryphon*:  Men,  who,  like  true  grifflai, 
Climb  up  the  sharpest  and  steepest  rocks. 

*  An  Arabian  philosopher  and  mathematician. 


the  purpose  too,  let  me  tell  you.  Nor 
would  I  have  you  for  the  future  hope  to 
catch  larks  when  the  sky  falls :  for  on  my 
honor  that  will  not  happen  in  your  time. 
Legions  of  hypocritical  church -vermin, 
cucullated  sham  saints,  peddlers  and 
hawkers  of  pardons,  perpetual  mumpers 
and  mumblers  of  orisons,  and  other  such 
gangs  of  rascally  scoundrels,  will  come 
out  of  their  dens.  Scape  that  scape  can, 
say  I.  Harkee  me,  take  heed  also  of  the 
bones  whenever  you  eat  fish,  and  God 
preserve  you  from  a  dose  of  ratsbane,  too. 

OF  WINTER. 

IN  winter,  in  my  silly  opinion,  those 
men  will  not  be  over  wise,  who'll  sell 
their  furred  gowns,  swans-skins,  and 
other  warm  clothes,  to  buy  fuel ;  neither 
did  the  ancients  use  to  do  so,  says  Aven- 
zouart.  If  it  chance  to  rain,  don't  fret 
yourselves,  so  much  the  less  dust  you  '11 
have  when  you  go  abroad.  Keep  your- 
selves as  hot  as  toasts,  d'  ye  hear :  be- 
ware of  catarrhs :  drink  of  the  best  till 
the  other  sort  mend.  Oh  ho  I  poultry,  do 
you  build  your  nests  so  high? 

END  OF  RABELAIS. 


A  SHARP  STUDENT. 

THE  Rev.  Dr.  Ritchie,  of  Edinburgh, 
when  examining  a  student  on  one  occa- 
sion, said :  "  And  you  attended  the  class 
for  mathematics  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  many  sides  has  a  circle  ?  " 

"  Two,"  said  the  student. 

"What  are  they?" 

What  a  laugh  in  the  class  the  student's 
answer  produced  when  he  said,  "An 
inside  and  an  outside  !  " 

But  this  was  nothing  compared  with 
what  followed.  The  doctor  having  said 
to  this  student,  "  And  you  attended  the 
moral  philosophy  class  also  ? 

"Well,  you  would  hear  lectures,  on 
various  subjects.  Did  you  ever  hear  one 
on  cause  and  effect  ?" 

'  Yes." 

'  Does  an  effect  ever  go  before  a  cause  ?" 

'  Yes."  . 

'  Give  me  an  instance." 

'  A  man  wheeling  a  barrow." 

The  doctor  proposed  no  more  questions, 


so 


BLINDMAN'S  BUFF. 


BLINDMAN'S  BUFF. 

THREE  wags  (whom  some  fastidious  carpers 
Might  rather  designate  three  sharpers) 

Entered,  at  York,  the  Cat  and  Fiddle ; 
And  finding  that  the  host  was  out 
On  business  for  two  hours  or  more, 
While  Sam,  the  rustic  waiter,  wore 
The  visage  of  a  simple  lout, 

Whom  they  might  safely  try  to  diddle, 
They  ordered  dinner  in  a  canter, 
Cold  or  hot,  it  mattered  not, 
Provided  it  was  served  instanter  ; 

And  as  the  heat  had  made  them  very 
Dry  and  dusty  in  their  throttles, 
They  bade  the  waiter  bring  three  bottles 

Of  prime  old  port,  and  one  of  sherry. 
Sam  ran  with  ardor  to  the  larder, 
Then  to  the  kitchen  ; 
And,  as  he  briskly  went  to  work,  he 
Drew  from  the  spit  a  roasted  turkey, 
With  sausages  embellished,  which  in 

A  trice  upon  the  board  was  spread, 
Together  with  a  nice  cold  brisket ; 
Nor  did  he  even  obliviscate 

Half  a  pig's  head. 
To  these  succeeded  puddings,  pies, 

Custards,  and  jellies, 
All  doomed  to  fall  a  sacrifice 

To  their  insatiable  bellies ; 
As  if,  like  camels,  they  intended 

To  stuff  into  their  monstrous  craws 

Enough  to  satisfy  their  maws, 
Until  their  pilgrimage  was  ended. 
Talking,  laughing,  eating  and  quaffing, 

The  bottles  stood  no  moment  still. 
They  rallied  Sam  with  joke  and  banter, 
And,  as  they  drained  the  last  decanter, 

Called  for  the  bill. 

'T  was  brought,  when  one  of  them,  who  eyed 
And  added  up  the  items,  cried, — 

"  Extremely  moderate,  indeed  ! 
I'll  make  a  point  to  recommend 
This  inn  to  every  travelling  friend  ; 

And  you,  Sam,  shall  be  doubly  fee'd ! 
This  said,  a  weighty  purse  he  drew, 

When  his  companion  interposed : 
"  Nay,  Harry,  that  will  never  do  ; 

Pray  let  your  purse  again  be  closed  ; 
You  paid  all  charges  yesterday, 
'T  is  clearly  now  my  turn  to  pay." 

Harry,  however,  would  n't  listen 
To  any  such  insulting  offer ; 

His  generous  eyes  appeared  to  glisten, 
Indignant  at  the  very  proffer  j 


And,  though   his  friend   talked  loud,  his 

clangor 

Seemed  but  to  aggravate  Hal's  anger." 
"  My  worthy  fellow,"  cried  the  third, 
"  Now  really  this  is  too  absurd, 
Whatl  do  both  of  you  forget, 
I  have  n't  paid  a  farthing,  yet  ? 

Am  I  eternally  to  cram 
At  your  expense  ?     'Tis  childish,  quite, 
I  claim  the  payment  as  my  right. 

Here,  how  much  is  the  money,  Sam  ?" 

To  this  most  rational  proposal, 

The  others  gave  such  fierce  negation, 
One  might  have  fancied  they  were  foes,  all ; 

So  hot  became  the  altercation, 
Each  in  his  purse  his  money  rattling, 
Insisting,  arguing,  and  battling. 

One  of  them  cried,  at  last, — "  A  truce ! 
This  point  we  will  no  longer  moot, 

Wrangling  for  trifles  is  no  use ; 
And  thus  we'll  finish  the  dispute  : — 

That  we  may  settle  what  we  three  owe, 
We  '11  blindfold  Sam,  and  whichsoe'er 
He  catches  of  us  first,  shall  bear 

The  expenses  of  the  other  two, 
With  half  a  crown  (if  that 's  enough) 
To  Sam  for  playing  blindman's  buff." 

Sam  liked  it  hugely, — thought  the  ransom 

For  a  good  game  of  fun,  was  handsome  ; 

Gave  his  own  handkerchief  beside, 

To  have  his  eyes  securely  tied, 

And  soon  began  to  grope  and  search ; 

When  the  three  knaves,  I  need  o't  say, 
Adroitly  left  him  in  the  lurch, 

Stepped  down  the  stairs  and  stole  away. 
Poor  Sam  continues  hard  at  work. 

Now  o'er  a  chair  he  gets  a  fall ; 
Now  floundering  forward  with  a  jerk, 

He  bobs  his  nose  against  the  wall ; 
And  now,  encouraged  by  a  subtle 

Fancy  that  they're  near  the  door, 

He  jumps  behind  it  to  explore, 
And  breaks  his  shins  against  the  scuttle  j 
Crying  at  each  disaster — "  Drat  it  1 
Hang  it  I  'od  rabbit  it!"  and  "Rat  it  I" 

Justin  the  crisis  of  his  doom, 

The  host,  returning,  sought  the  room ; 

And  Sam  no  sooner  heard  his  tread, 
Than,  pouncing  on  him  like  a  bruin, 
He  almost  shook  him  into  ruin, 

And,  with  a  shout  of  laughter,  said  : — 
Huzza !  I  've  caught  you  now,  so  down 
With  cash  for  all,  and  my  half-crown," 

Off  went  the  bandage,  and  his  eyes 
Seemed  to  be  goggling  o'er  his  forehead, 
While  his  mouth  widened  with  a  horrid 


THE  CHAMELEON. 


It 


Look  of  agonized  surprise. 
"  Gull  1"    roared   his   master ;     "  gudgeon 

Dunce ! 
Fool  as  you  are,  you're  right  for  once  ; 

'T  is  clear  that  I  must  pay  the  sum ; 
But  this  one  thought  my  wrath  assuages — 

That  every  half-penny  shall  come 
Out  of  your  wages  !" 

HORACE  SMITH,  1779-1849. 


THE  CHAMELEON. 

[JAMES  MEERICK,  poet  and  divine,  was  born  at  Bead 
tog,  Berkshire,  in  1720.  Lowthsaidof  him  that  he  was 
'  one  of  the  best  of  men  and  most  eminent  of  scholars. 
Died,  1769.] 

OFT  has  it  been  my  lot  to  mark 
A  proud,  conceited,  talking  spark, 
With  eyes  that  hardly  served  at  most 
To  guard  their  master  'gainst  a  post ; 
Yet  round  t.he  world  the  blade  has  been, 
To  see  whatever  could  be  seen. 
Returning  from  his  finish'd  tour, 
Grown  ten  times  perter  than  before  ; 
Whatever  word  you  chance  to  drop, 
The  travell'd  fool  your  raouth  will  stop  : 
'  Sir,  if  my  judgment  you'll  allow — 
I've  seen — and  sure  I  ought  to  know.' — 
So  begs  you'd  pay  a  due  submission, 
And  acquiesce  in  his  decision. 

Two  travellers  of  such  a  cast, 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  theypass'd, 
And  on  their  way,  in  friendly  chat, 
Now  talk'd  of  this,  and  then  of  that ; 
Discoursed  awhile,  'mongst  other  matter, 
Of  the  Chameleon's  form  and  nature. 
1 A  stranger  animal,'  cries  one, 
'  Sure  never  lived  beneath  the  sun  : 
A  lizard's  body  lean  and  long, 
A  fish's  head,  a  serpent's  tongue, 
Its  foot  with  triple  claw  disjoin'd  ; 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind  I 
How  slow  its  pace  !  and  then  its  hue — 
Who  ever  saw  so  fine  a  blue  1' 

'  Hold  there/  the  other  quick  replies, 
"Tis  green,  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 
As  late  with  open  mouth  it  lay, 
And  warm'd  it  in  the  sunny  ray  ; 
Stretch'd  at  its  ease  the  beast  I  view'd, 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food.' 


'  I've  seen  it,  sir,  as  well  as  you, 
And  must  again  affirm  it  blue ; 
At  leisure  I  the  beast  survey'd 
Extended  in  the  cooling  shade/ 

'  'Tis  green,  'tis  green,  sir,  I  assure  ye.' 
'  Green  !'  cries  the  other  in  a  fury : 
'  Why,  sir,  d'ye  think  I've  lost  my  eyes?' 
'  'Twere  no  great  loss,'  the  friend  replies  ; 
'  For  if  they  always  serve  you  thus, 
You'll  find  them  but  of  little  use.' 

So  high  at  last  the  contest  rose, 
From  words  they  almost  came  to  blows 
When  luckily  came  by  a  third ; 
To  him  the  question  they  referr'd  : 
And  begg'd  he'd  tell  them,  if  he  knew, 
Whether  the  thing  was  green  or  blue. 

'  Sirs,'  cries  the  umpire, '  cease  your  pother; 
The  creature's  neither  one  nor  t'other. 
I  caught  the  animal  last  night, 
And  view'd  it,  o'er  by  candle-light : 
I  mark'd  it  well,  'twas  black  as  jet — 
Y  ou  stare — but,  sirs,  I've  got  it  yet, 
And  can  produce  it.' — '  Pray,  sir,  do  ; 
I'll  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue.' 
'And  I'll  be  sworn,  that  when  you've  seen 
The  reptile,  you'll  pronounce  him  green.' 

'  Well,  then,  at  once  to  ease  the  doubt,' 
Replies  the  man,  '  I'll  turn  him  out : 
And  when  before  your  eyes  I've  set  him, 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  I'll  eat  him.' 

He  said  ;  and  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo ! — 'twas  white. 
Both  stared,  the  man  look'd  wondrous  wise—- 
My children,'  the  Chameleon  cries 
Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue), 
You  all  are  right,  and  all  are  wrong  : 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view, 
Think  others  see  as  well  as  you : 
tf  or  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eyesight  to  his  own.' 


IT  was  a  colored  preacher  who  said  to 

lis  flock :  "  We  has  a  collection  to  make 

dis  mo'ning,  and  fo'  de  sake  of  yo'  repu- 

ation,  whichever  of  you  stole  Mr.  Jones' 

urkeys,  don't  put  anyfine  on  de  plate." 

One  who  was  there  says,     Every  blessed 

niggah  in  de  church  came  down  wid  de 

ocks." 


A  CONDENSED   NOVEL. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  IRISH  SER- 
PENTS. 

SUKE  everybody  has  heard  tell  of  the 
blessed  St.  Patrick,  and  how  he  druve  the 
sarpints  and  all  manner  of  venomous 
things  out  of  Ireland  ;  how  he  "  bothered 
all  the  varmint"  entirely.  But  for  all 
that,  there  was  one  ould  sarpint  left  who 
was  too  cunning  to  be  talked  out  of  the 
country,  or  made  to  drown  himself.  St. 
Patrick  did  n't  well  know  how  to  manage 
this  fellow,  who  was  doing  great  havoc ; 
till  at  long  last  he  bethought  himself,  and 
got  a  strong  iron,  chest  made  with  nine 
boults  upon  it.  So  one  fine  morning  he 
takes  a  walk  to  where  the  sarpint  used  to 
keep ;  and  the  sarpint,  who  didn't  like 
the  saint  in  the  least,  and  small  blame  to 
him  for  that,  began  to  hiss  and  show  his 
teeth  at  him  like  anything.  "  Oh,"  says 
St.  Patrick,  says  he,  "  where 's  the  use  of 
making  such  a  piece  of  work  about  a  gen- 
tleman like  myself  coming  to  see  you? 
'T  is  a  nice  house  I  have  got  made  for  you 
agin  the  winter  ;  for  I'm  going  to  civilize 
the  whole  country,  man  and  beast,"  says 
he, "  and  you  can  come  and  look  at  it 
whenever  you  please,  and  't  is  myself  will 
be  glad  to  see  you."  The  sarpint,  hearing 
such  smooth  words,  thought  that  though 
St.  Patrick  had  druve  all  the  rest  of  the 
sarpints  into  the  sea,  he  meant  no  harm 
to  himself;  so  the  sarpint  walks  fair  and 
easy  up  to  see  him  and  the  house  he  was 
speaking  about.  But  when  the  sarpint 
saw  the  nine  boults  upon  the  chest,  he 
thought  he  was  sould  (betrayed),  and  was 
for  making  off  with  himself  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could.  "  'T  is  a  nice  warm  house,  you 
see,"  says  St.  Patrick,  "and  'tis  a  good 
friend  I  am  to  you."  "  I  thank  you  kind- 
ly, St.  Patrick,  for  your  civility,"  says  the 
sarpint ;  "  but  I  think  it 's  too  small  it  is 
for  me" — meaning  it  for  an  excuse,  and 
away  he  was  going.  "  Too  small !  "  says 
St.  Patrick ;  "stop,  if  you  please,"  says  he; 
"  you  're  out  in  that,  my  boy,  anyhow — I 
am  sure  't  will  fit  you  completely ;  and 
I  '11  tell  you  what,"  says  he,  "  I'll  bet  you  a 
gallon  of  porter,"  says  he,  "  that  if  you'll 
only  try  and  get  in,  there  '11  be  plenty  of 
room  for  you."  The  sarpint  was  as 
thirsty  as  could  be  with  his  walk ;  and 
'twas  great  joy  to  him  the  thoughts  of 
doing  St.  Patrick  out  of  the  gallon  of 


porter ;  so,  swelling  himself  up  as  big  as 
he  could,  in  he  got  to  the  chest,  all  but  a 
little  bit  of  his  tail.  "There,  now,"  says 
he  ;  "I 've  won  the  gallon, for  you  see  the 
house  is  too  small  for  me,  for  I  can  't  get 
in  my  tail."  When  what  does  St.  Patrick 
do,  but  he  comes  behind  the  great  heavy 
jid  of  the  chest,  and,  putting  his  two 
hands  to  it,  down  he  slaps  it  with  a  bang 
like  thunder.  When  the  rogue  of  a  sar- 
pint saw  the  lid  coming  down,  in  went 
his  tail  like  a  shot,  for  fear  of  being 
whipped  off  him,  and  St,  Patrick  began  at 
once  to  boult  the  nine  iron  boults.  "  Oh, 
murder  I  won 't  you  let  me  out,  St.  Pat- 
trick  ?  "  says  the  sarpint ;  "  I've  lost  the 
bet  fairly,  and  I  '11  pay  you  the  gallon  like 
a  man."  "  Let  you  out,  my  darling?  "  says 
St.  Patrick ;  "  to  be  sure  I  will,  by  all 
manner  of  means ;  but  you  see  I  haven  't 
time  just  now,  so  you  must  wait  till  to- 
morrow.'' And  so  he  took  the  iron  chest, 
with  the  sarpint  in  it,  and  pitches  it  into 
the  lake  here,  where  it  is  to  this  hour  for 
certain ;  and  '  tis  the  sarpint  struggling 
down  at  the  bottom  that  makes  the  waves 
u  pon  it.  Many  is  the  living  man  has  heard 
the  sarpint  crying  out  from  within  the 
chest  under  the  water  :  "  Is  it  to-morrow 
yet?"  which,  to  be  sure,  it  never  can  be. 
— And  that 's  the  way  St.  Patrick  settled 
the  last  of  the  sarpints,  sir. 

THOMAS  CROFTON  CKOKEB,  1798—1884. 


A  CONDENSED  NOVEL. 


VOL.  I. 

A  winning  wile, 
A  sunny  smile, 

A  feather: 
A  tiny  talk, 
A  pleasant  walk 

Together  I 


VOL.  II. 

A  little  doubt, 
A  playful  pout, 

Capricious : 
A  merry  miss, 
A  stolen  kiss, 
Delicious  I 


VOL.   III. 

You  ask  mamma, 
Consult  papa, 

With  pleasure ; 
And  both  repent, 
This  rash  event, 

At  leisure. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


35 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY 
AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


STZRNK,  the  son  of  Roger  Sterne,  a  lieu- 
tenant in  the  British  Army,  was  born  in  Clonmel,  Ire- 
land, Nov.  24,  1713.  He  was  a  grandson  of  Kichard 
Sterne,  Archbishop  of  York,  and  a  nephew  of  Arch- 
deacon Jacques  Sterne,  LL.I>.  After  going  to  school 
at  Halifax,  England,  he  was  sent  to  Jesus  College, 
Cambridge,  in  1733,  where  he  took  the  degree  of  A.B. 
in  1736.  On  leaving  the  University,  he  took  church 
orders,  and  by  the  interest  of  his  uncle  obtained  the 
living  of  Sutton,  Yorkshire,  and  in  1740-41  was  a  pre- 
bend in  York  Cathedral.  He  married  in  1741  and  re- 
ceived from  a  friend  of  his  wife  the  living  of  Stil- 
lington,  near  Sutton.  He  retained  his  connection  with 
these  two  places  for  nearly  twenty  years,  preaching 
on  Sundays,  and  amusing  himself  during  the  week 
by  reading,  "painting,  fiddling,  and  shooting."  Im- 
mediately after  the  publication  of  Tristram  Shandy  (in 
1759)  he  became  famous,  and  afterwards  he  paid  still 
less  attention  to  clerical  duties,  his  time  being  mostly 
epent  in  London  or  on  the  continent.  His  earliest  pub- 
lications were  several  sermons,  which  at  the  time  at- 
tracted little  attention  ;  but  his  sermons  have  since  had 
admirers.  The  poet  Gray  says  of  them  :  "  They  are  in  the 
style  I  think  most  proper  for  the  pulpit,  and  show  a 
strong  imagination  and  a  sensible  heart  ;  but  you  see 
him  often  tottering  on  the  verge  of  laughter,  and  ready 
to  throw  his  periwig  in  the  face  of  his  audience."  A 
Sentimental  Journey  was  published  iu  the  year  of  the 
author's  death,  1768.  Sterne  led  an  unworthy,  inconsis- 
tent, and  indiscreet  if  not  immoral  life,  and  died  unla- 
mented  and  well-nigh  neglected.  While  a  few  prefer 
his  Sentimental  Journey,  his  fame  beyond  question  rests 
chiefly  upon  Tristram  Shandy.  Speaking  of  the  latter 
work  Hazlitt  says:  "The  story  of  Le  Fevre  is  perhaps 
the  finest  in  the  English  language."  The  same  writer 
says:  "My  Uncle  Toby  is  one  of  the  finest  compli- 
ments ever  paid  to  human  nature.  He  is  the  most  un- 
offending of  God's  creatures."  Leigh  Hunt  thus  apos- 
trophizes this  genial  creation  of  Sterne's  :  "  But  what 
shall  I  say  to  thee,  thou  quintessence  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness,  thou  reconciler  of  war  (as  far  as  it 
was  necessary  to  reconcile  it),  thou  returner  to  child- 
hood during  peace,  thou  lover  of  widows,  thou  master 
of  the  best  of  corporals,  thou  whistler  at  excommuni- 
cations, thou  high  and  only  final  Christian  gentleman, 
thou  pitier  of  the  devil  himself,  divine  Uncle  Toby  ! 
Why,  this  I  will  say,  made  bold  by  thy  example,  and 
caring  nothing  for  what  anybody  may  think  of  it  who 
does  not  in  some  measure  partake  of  thy  nature,  that 
he  who  created  thee  was  the  wisest  man  since  the  days 
of  Shakspeare;  and  that  Shakspeare  himself,  mighty 
reflector  of  things  as  they  were,  but  no  anticipator,  never 
arrived  at  a  character  like  thine."  To  this  extreme 
*nlogy  Mr.  Hunt  adds  :  "  If  I  were  requested  to  name 
tl»e  book  of  all  others,  which  combined  wit  and  hu- 
VOL.  II  --  w.  H. 


mor  under  their  highest  appearance  of  levity  with  the 
^rofoundest  wisdom,  it  would  be  Trittram  Shandy." 

Our  ielection  is  a  portion  of  "Tristram  Shandy" 
complete  in  itself,  comprising  the  last  two  books,  viz., 
the  Eighth  and  the  Ninth.] 

CHAPTER  I. 

Bur  softly,  for  in  these  sportive  plains 
and  under  this  genial  sun,  where  at  this 
instant  all  flesh  is  running  out  piping,  fid- 
dling, and  dancing  to  the  vintage,  and 
every  step  that's  taken,  the  judgment  is 
surprised  by  the  imagination,  I  defy,  not- 
withstanding all  that  has  been  said  upon 
straight  lines,  in  sundry  pages  of  my  book, 
I  defy  the  best  cabbage  planter  that  ever 
existed,  whether  he  plants  backwards  or 
forwards,  it  makes  little  difference  in  the 
account  (except  that  he  will  have  more  to 
answer  for  in  the  one  case  than  in  the 
other),  I  defy  him  to  goon  coolly,  critical- 
ly, and  canonically,  planting  his  cabbages 
one  by  one,  in  straight  lines,  and  stoical 
distances,  without  ever  and  anon  strad- 
dling out,  or  sliding  into  some  bastardly 
digression.  In  Freezeland,  Fog-land,  and 
some  other  lands  I  wot  of,  it  may  be  done ! 

But  in  this  clear  climate  of  fantasy  and 
perspiration,  where  every  idea,  sensible 
and  insensible,  gets  vent,  in  this  land,  my 
dear  Eugenius,  in  this  fertile  land  of  chiv- 
alry and  romance,  where  I  now  sit,  un- 
screwing my  inkhorn  to  write  my  uncle 
Toby's  amours,  and  with  all  the  meanders 
of  Julia's  track  in  quest  of  her  Diego,  in 
full  view  of  my  study-window,  if  thou 
comest  not  and  takest  me  by  the  hand, 

What  a  work  it  is  likely  to  turn  out  I 

Let  us  begin  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IT  is  with  Love  as  with  Cuckoldom : 
but  now  I  am  talking  of  beginning  a  book, 
and  have  long  had  a  thing  upon  my  mind 
to  be  imparted  to  the  reader,  which,  if  not 
imparted  now,  can  never  be  imparted  to 
him  as  long  as  I  live  (whereas  the  compari- 
son may  be  imparted  to  him  any  hour  in 
the  day),  I'll  just  mention  it,  and  begin  in 
good  earnest. 

The  thing  is  this : 

That  of  all  the  several  ways  of  begin- 
ning a  book  which  are  now  in  practice 
throughout  the  known  world,  I  am  con- 
fident my  own  way  of  doing  it  is  the  best 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


I'm  sure  it  is  the  most  religious,  for  I  be- 
gin with  writing  the  first  sentence,  and 
trusting  to  Almighty  God  for  the  second. 

'T  would  cure  an  author  forever  of  the 
fuss  and  folly  of  opening  the  street 
door,  and  calling  in  his  neighbors,  and 
friends,  and  kinsfolk,  with  the  Devil  and 
all  his  imps,  with  their  hammers,  and  en- 
gines, &c.,  only  to  observe  how  one  sen- 
tence of  mine  follows  another,  and  how 
the  plan  follows  the  whole. 

I  wish  you  saw  me  half  starting  out  of 
my  chair,  with  what  confidence,  as  I  grasp 
the  elbow  of  it,  I  look  up,  catching  the 
idea  even  sometimes  before  it  half-way 
reaches  me! 

I  believe,  in  my  conscience,  I  intercept 
many  a  thought  which  Heaven  intended 
for  another  man. 

Pope  and  his  portrait  are  fools  to  me ; 
no  martyr  is  ever  so  full  of  faith  or  fire. 
I  wish  I  could  say  of  good  works  too ;  but 
I  have  no 

Zeal  or  Anger — or 
Anger  or  Zeal ; — 

and,  till  gods  and  men  agree  together  to 
call  it  by  the  same  name,  the  arrantest  Tar- 
tufe  in  science,  in  politics,  or  in  religion, 
shall  never  kindle  a  spark  within  me,  or 
have  a  worse  word,  or  a  more  unkind 
greeting,  than  what  he  will  read  in  the 
next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Bon  jour !  good  morrow !  so  you  have 
got  your  cloak  on  betimes,  but 't  is  a  cold 
morning,  and  you  judge  the  matter 
rightly;  'tis  better  to  be  well  mounted 
than  go  o'foot;  and  obstructions  in  the 
glands  are  dangerous.  And  how  goes  it 
with  thy  wife  and  little  ones?  and  when 
did  you  hear  from  the  old  gentleman  and 
lady,  your  sister,  aunt,  uncle  and  cousins  ? 
I  hope  they  have  got  the  better  of  their 
colds,  coughs,  tooth-aches,  fevers,  strangu- 
aries,  sciaticas,  swellings,  and  sore  eyes. 

What  a  devil  of  an  apothecary  !  to  take 
so  much  blood,  give  such  a  vile  purge, 
puke,  poultice,  plaster,  night  draught, 
clyster,  blister!  And  why  so  many  grains 
of  calomel  ?  Santa  Maria !  and  such  a 
dose  of  opium !  periclitating,  pardi !  the 
whole  family  of  ye,  from  head  to  tail !  By 
my  great-aunt  Dinah's  old  black  velvet 
mask  !  I  think  there  was  no  occasion  for  it. 


Now  this  being  a  little  bald  about  the 
chin,  by  frequently  putting  off  and  on, 
not  one  of  our  family  would  wear  it  after. 
To  cover  the  mask  afresh,  was  more  than 
the  mask  was  worth ;  and  to  wear  a  mask 
which  was  bald,  or  which  could  be  half 
seen  through,  was  as  bad  as  having  no 
mask  at  all. 

This  is  the  reason,  may  it  please  your 
Reverences,  that  in  all  our  numerous 
family,  for  these  four  generations,  we 
count  no  more  than  one  Archbishop,  a 
Welsh  Judge,  some  three  or  four  Alder- 
men, and  a  single  Mountebank. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  we  boast  of 
no  less  than  a  dozen  alchemists. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  IT  is  with  Love  as  with  Cuckoldom ;" 
the  suffering  party  is  at  least  the  third, 
but,  generally,  the  last  in  the  house  who 
knows  any  thing  about  the  matter :  this 
comes,  as  all  the  world  knows,  from  having 
half  a  dozen  words  for  one  thing ;  and  so 
long  as  what  in  this  vessel  of  the  human 
frame  is  Love,  may  be  Hatred  in  that, 
Sentiment  ha,\  f  a  yard  higher,  and  Nonsense 
— No,  Madam,  not  there ;  I  mean  at  the 
part  I  am  now  pointing  to  with  my  fore- 
finger— how  can  we  help  ourselves  ? 

Of  all  mortal,  and  immortal  men  too,  if 
you  please,  who  ever  soliloquized  upon 
this  mystic  subject,  my  uncle  Toby  was 
the  worst  fitted  to  have  pushed  his  re- 
searches through  such  a  contention  of 
feelings ;  and  he  had  infallibly  let  them 
all  run  on,  as  we  do  worse  matters,  to  see 
what  they  would  turn  out,  had  not  Brid- 
get's prenotification  of  them  to  Susannah, 
and  Susannah's  repeated  manifestoes 
thereupon  to  all  the  world,  made  it  neces- 
sary for  my  uncle  Toby  to  look  into  the 
affair. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHY  weavers,  gardeners,  and  gladi- 
ators, or  a  man  with  a  pined  leg  (pro- 
ceeding from  some  ailment  in  the  foot) 
should  ever  have  had  some  tender  nymph 
breaking  her  heart  in  secret  for  them,  are 
points  well  and  duly  settled  and  accounted 
for,  by  ancient  and  modern  physiologists. 

A  water-drinker,  provided  he  is  a  pro- 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W ADMAN. 


f eased  one,  and  does  it  without  fraud  or 
covin,  is  precisely  in  the  same  predica- 
ment :  not  that,  at  first  sight,  there  is  any 
consequence,  or  show  of  logic  in  it,  "  That 
a  rill  of  cold  water  dribbling  through  my 
inward  parts,  should  light  up  a  torch  in 
my  Jenny's  heart — " 

The  proposition  does  not  strike  one  ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  run  opposite 
to  the  natural  workings  of  causes  and 
effects. 

But  it  shows  the  weakness  and  imbecility 
of  human  reason. 

"  And  in  perfect  good  health  with  it !" 

The  most  perfect,  Madam,  that  Friend- 
ship herself  could  wish  me. 

"And  drink  nothing!  nothing  but 
water?" 

Impetuous  fluid !  the  moment  thou 
pressest  against  the  flood-gates  of  the 
brain,  see  how  they  give  way  ! 

In  swims  Curiosity,  beckoning  to  her 
damsels  to  follow;  they  dive  into  the 
centre  of  the  current. 

Fancy  sits  musing  upon  the  bank,  and, 
with  her  eyes  following  the  stream,  turns 
straw  and  bulrushes  into  masts  and  bow- 
sprits. And  Desire,  with  vest  held  up  to 
the  knee  in  one  hand,  snatches  at  them, 
as  they  swim  by  her,  with  the  other. 

0  ye  water-drinkers !  is  it  then  by  this 
delusive  fountain,  that  ye  have  so  often 
governed  and  turn'd  this  world  about  like 
a  mill-wheel,  grinding  the  faces  of  the 
impotent,  bepowdering  their  ribs,  be- 
peppering  their  noses,  and  changing  some- 
times even  the  very  frame  and  face  of 
nature ! 

If  I  was  you,  quoth  Yorick,  I  would 
drink  more  water,  Eugenius.  And,  if  I 
was  vou,  Yorick,  replied  Eugenius,  so 
would  I. 

Which  shows  they  had  both  read  Lon- 
ginus. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  resolved  never 
to  read  any  book  but  my  own  as  long  as  I 
live. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  WISH  my  uncle  Toby  had  been  a 
water-drinker,  for  then  the  thing  had  been 
accounted  for,  That  the  first  moment 
Widow  Wadman  saw  him,  she  felt  some- 
thing stirring  within  her  in  his  favor; 
something !  something. 

Something,  perhaps,  more  than  friend- 


ship, less  than  love :  something,  no  matter 
what,  no  matter  where  ;  I  would  not  give 
a  single  hair  of  my  mule's  tail,  and  be 
obliged  to  pluck  it  off  myself  (indeed,  the 
villain  has  not  many  to  spare,  and  is  not 
a  little  vicious  into  the  bargain)  to  be  let 
by  your  Worships  into  the  secret. 

But  the  truth  is,  my  uncle  Toby  waa 
not  a  water-drinker ;  he  drank  it  neither 
pure  nor  mixed,  nor  anyhow,  nor  any- 
where, except  fortuitously  upon  some 
advanced  posts,  where  better  liquor  was 
not  to  be  had,  or  during  the  time  he  was 
under  cure ;  when,  the  surgeon  telling  him 
it  would  extend  the  fibres,  and  bring  them 
sooner  into  contact,  my  uncle  Toby  drank 
it  for  quietness'  sake. 

Now,  as  all  the  world  knows  that  no 
effect  in  nature  can  be  produced  without 
a  cause,  and  as  it  is  as  well  known  that 
my  uncle  Toby  was  neither  a  weaver,  a 
gardener,  nor  a  gladiator,  unless  as  a  cap- 
tain, you  will  needs  have  him  one,  but 
then  he  was  only  a  captain  of  foot,  and, 
besides,  the  whole  is  an  equivocation. 
There  is  nothing  left  for  us  to  suppose, 
but  that  my  uncle  Toby's  leg — but  that 
will  avail  us  little  in  the  present  hypo- 
thesis, unless  it  had  proceeded  from  some 
ailment  in  the  foot,  whereas  his  leg  was 
not  emaciated  from  any  disorder  in  his 
foot,  for  my  uncle  Toby's  •  leg  was  not 
emaciated  at  all.  It  was  a  little  stiff  and 
awkward,  from  a  total  disuse  of  it  for  the 
three  years  he  lay  confined  at  my  father's 
house  in  town;  but  it  was  plump  and 
muscular,  and,  in  all  other  respects,  as 
good  and  promising  a  leg  as  the  other. 

I  declare,  I  do  not  recollect  any  one 
opinion  or  passage  of  my  life,  where  my 
understanding  was  more  at  a  loss  to  make 
ends  meet,  and  torture  the  chapter  I  had 
been  writing,  to  the  service  of  the  chapter 
following  it,  than  in  the  present  case :  one 
would  think  I  took  a  pleasure  in  running 
into  difficulties  of  this  kind,  merely  to 
make  fresh  experiments  of  getting  out  of 
'em.  Inconsiderate  soul  that  thou  art! 
What !  are  not  the  unavoidable  distresses 
with  which,  as  an  author  and  a  man,  thou 
art  hemmed  in  on  every  side  of  thee ;  are 
they,  Tristram,  not  sufficient,  but  thou 
must  entangle  thyself  still  more  ? 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BUT,  for  Heaven's  sake,  let  us  take  th« 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


§tory  straight  before  us ;  it  is  so  nice  and 
intricate  a  one,  it  will  scarce  bear  the 
transposition  of  a  single  tittle ;  and  some- 
how or  other,  you  have  got  me  thrust  al- 
most into  the  middle  of  it. 
I  beg  we  may  take  more  care. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MY  uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  had 
posted  down  with  so  much  heat  and 
precipitation,  to  take  possession  of  the 
spot  of  ground  we  have  so  often  spoken 
of,  in  order  to  open  their  campaign  as 
early  as  the  rest  of  the  allies ;  that  they 
had  forgot  one  of  the  most  necessary 
articles  of  the  whole  affair ;  it  was 
neither  a  pioneer's  spade,  a  pick-axe,  or 
a  shovel. 

It  was  a  bed  to  lie  on :  so  that  as  Shan- 
dy-hall was  at  that  time  unfurnished,  and 
the  little  inn  where  poor  Le  Fevre  died, 
not  yet  built,  my  uncle  Toby  was  con- 
strained to  accept  of  a  bed  of  Mrs.  Wad- 
man's,  for  a  night  or  two,  till  corporal 
Trim  (who,  to  the  character  of  an  excel- 
lent valet,  groom,  cook,  sempster,  surgeon, 
and  engineer,  superadded  that  of  an  ex- 
cellent upholsterer  too),  with  the  help  of  a 
carpenter  and  a  couple  of  tailors,  construc- 
ted one  in  my  uncle  Toby's  house. 

A  daughter  of  Eve,  for  such  was  Widow 
Wadman,  and  it's  all  the  character  I  in- 
tended to  give  her, 

"  That  she  was  a  perfect  woman,"  had 
better  be  fifty  leagues  off,  or  in  her  warm 
bed,  or  playing  with  a  case-knife,  or  any- 
thing you  please,  than  make  a  man  the 
object  of  her  attention,  when  the  house 
and  all  the  furniture  is  her  own. 

There  is  nothing  in  it  out  of  doors  and 
in  broad  daylight,  where  a  woman  has  a 
power,  physically  speaking,  of  viewing  a 
man  in  more  lights  than  one ;  but  here, 
for  her  soul,  she  can  see  him  in  no  light 
without  mixing  something  of  her  own 
goods  and  chattels  along  with  him,  till, 
by  reiterated  acts  of  such  combinations, 
he  gets  foisted  into  her  inventory, 

And  then,  good  night. 

But  this  is  not  matter  of  System ;  for  I 
have  delivered  that  above;  nor  is  it  a 
matter  of  Breviary  ;  for  I  make  no  man's 
creed  but  my  own  :  nor  matter  of  Fact,  at 
least  that  I  know  of:  but  'tis  matter  in- 
troductorv  to  what  follows. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  DO  not  speak  it  with  regard  to  the 
coarseness  or  cleanness  of  them,  or  the 
strength  of  their  gussets ;  but  pray,  Do 
not  night-shifts  differ  from  day-shifts  as 
much  in  this  particular,  as  in  anything 
else  in  the  world,  That  they  so  far  exceed 
the  others  in  length,  that,  when  you  are 
laid  down  in  them,  they  fall  almost  as 
much  below  the  feet  as  the  day-shifts  fall 
short  of  them  ? 

Widow  Wadman 's  night-shifts  (as  was 
the  mode,  I  suppose,  in  King  William's 
and  Queen  Anne's  reigns)  were  cut,  how- 
ever, after  this  fashion ;  and,  if  the  fashion 
is  changed  (for  in  Italy  they  are  come  to 
nothing)  so  much  the  worse  for  the  public ; 
they  were  two  Flemish  ells  and  a  half  in 
length  :  so  that,  allowing  a  moderate  wo- 
man two  ells,  she  had  half  an  ell  to  spare. 

Now,  from  one  little  indulgence  gained 
after  another,  in  the  many  bleak  and  De- 
cemberly  nights  of  a  seven  years'  widow- 
hood, things  had  insensibly  come  to  this 
pass,  and,  for  the  two  last  years,  had  got 
established  into  one  of  the  ordinances  of 
the  bedchamber,  That  as  soon  as  Mrs. 
Wadman  was  put  to  bed,  and  had  got  her 
legs  stretched  down  to  the  bottom  of  it,  of 
which  she  always  gave  Bridget  notice, 
Bridget,  with  all  suitable  decorum,  hav- 
ing first  opened  the  bed-clothes  at  the  feet, 
took  hold  of  the  half-ell  of  cloth  we  were 
speaking  of,  and  having  gently,  and  with 
both  her  hands,  drawn  it  downwards  to 
its  furthest  extension,  and  then  contract- 
ed it  again  sidelong  by  four  or  five  even 
plaits,  she  took  a  large  corking-pin  out  of 
her  sleeve,  and,  with  the  point  directed 
towards  her,  pinn'd  the  plaits  all  fast  to- 
gether, a  little  above  the  hem ;  which 
done,  she  tuck'd  all  in  tight  at  the  feet, 
and  wished  her  mistress  good-night. 

This  was  constant,  and  without  any 
other  variation  than  this :  that  on  shiver- 
ing and  tempestuous  nights,  when  Bridget 
untuck'd  the  feet  of  the  bed,  &c.,  to  do 
this,  she  consulted  no  thermometer  but 
that  of  her  own  passions:  and  so  per- 
formed it  standing,  kneeling,  or  squatting, 
according  to  the  different  degrees  of  faith, 
hope,  and  charity,  she  was  in,  and  bore 
towards  her  mistress  that  night.  In  every 
other  respect,  the  etiquette  was  sacred,  and 
might  have  vied  with  the  most  mechani- 
cal one  of  the  most  inflexible  bed-chamber 
in  Christendom. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


37 


The  first  night,  as  soon  as  the  corporal 
had  conducted  my  uncle  Toby  up  stairs, 
which  was  about  ten,  Mrs.  Wadman 
threw  herself  into  her  arm-chair,  and 
crossing  her  left  knee  with  her  right, 
which  formed  a  resting-place  for  her 
elbow,  she  reclin'd  her  cheek  upon  the 
palm  of  her  hand,  and,  leaning  forwards, 
ruminated  till  midnight  upon  both  sides 
of  the  question. 

The  second  night  she  went  to  her  bu- 
reau, and,  having  ordered  Bridget  to 
bring  her  up  a  couple  of  fresh  candles 
and  leave  them  upon  the  table,  she  took 
out  her  marriage-settlement,  and  read  it 
over  with  great  devotion :  and  the  third 
night  (which  was  the  last  of  my  uncle 
Toby's  stay)  when  Bridget  had  pulled 
down  the  night-shift,  and  was  essaying  to 
stick  in  the  corking-pin, 

With  a  kick  of  both  heels  at  once,  but 
at  the  same  time  the  most  natural  kick 
that  could  be  kick'd  in  her  situation  *  * 
*  *  *  *  she  kick'd  the  pin  out  of  her 
fingers,  the  etiquette  which  hung  upon  it, 
down,  down  it  fell  to  the  ground,  and  was 
shivered  into  a  thousand  atoms. 

From  all  which,  it  was  plain  that 
Widow  Wadman  was  in  love  with  my 
uncle  Toby. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MY  uncle  Toby's  head  at  that  time  was 
full  of  other  matters,  so  that  it  was  not 
till  the  demolition  of  Dunkirk,  when  all 
the  other  civilities  of  Europe  were  settled, 
that  he  found  leisure  to  return  this. 

This  made  an  armistice  (that  is,  speak- 
ing with  regard  to  my  uncle  Toby ;  but, 
with  respect  to  Mrs.  Wadman,  a  vacancy) 
of  almost  eleven  years.  But  in  all  cases 
of  this  nature,  as  it  is  the  second  blow, 
happen  at  what  distance  of  time  it  will, 
which  makes  the  fray,  I  choose,  for  that 
reason,  to  call  these  the  amours  of  my 
uncle  Toby  with  Mrs.  Wadman,  rather 
than  the  amours  of  Mrs.  Wadman  with 
my  uncle  Toby. 

This  is  not  a  distinction  without  a 
difference. 

It  is  not  like  the  affair  of  an  old  hat 
cock'd,  and  a  cock'd  old  hat,  about  which 
your  Reverences  have  so  often  been  at 
odds  with  one  another ;  but  there  is  a 
difference  here  in  the  nature  of  things : 


And,  let  me  tell  you  gentry,  a  wide  one 
too. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Now,  as  Widow  Wadman  did  love  my 
uncle  Toby,  and  my  uncle  Toby  did  not 
love  Widow  Wadman,  there  was  nothing 
for  Widow  Wadman  to  do,  but  to  go  on 
and  love  my  uncle  Toby,  or  let  it  alone. 

Widow  AVadman  would  do  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other. 

Gracious  Heaven  !  but  I  forget  I  am  a 
little  of  her  temper  myself:  for  whenever 
it  so  falls  out,  which  it  sometimes  does, 
about  the  equinoxes,  that  an  earthly  god- 
dess is  so  much  this,  and  that,  and  t'other, 
that  I  cannot  eat  my  breakfast  for  her, 
and  that  she  careth  not  three  half-pence 
whether  I  eat  my  breakfast  or  not, — 

Curse  on  her !  and  so  I  send  her  to 
Tartary,  and  from  Tartary  to  Terra  del 
Fucgo,  and  so  on  to  the  Devil.  In  short, 
there  is  not  an  infernal  nicbe  where  I  do 
not  take  her  divinityship  and  stick  it. 

But  as  the  heart  is  tender,  and  the  pas- 
sions in  these  tides  ebb  and  flow  ten  times 
in  a  minute,  I  instantly  bring  her  back 
again  ;  and,  as  I  do  all  things  in  extremes, 
I  place  her  in  the  very  centre  of  the  milky 
way,  Brightest  of  Stars  !  thou  wilt  shed 
thy  influence  upon  some  one. 

The  deuce  take  her  and  her  influence 
too  :  for  at  that  word,  I  lose  all  patience ; 
much  good  may  it  do  him  !  By  all  that 
is  hirsute!  I  cry,  taking  my  furred  cap, 
and  twisting  it  round  my  finger,  I  would 
not  give  sixpence  for  a  dozen  such  I 


CHAPTER  XII. 


"  NOT  touch  it  for  the  world,"  did  I  say  ? 
Lord,  how  I  have  heated  my  imagination 
with  this  metaphor. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


WHICH  shows,  let  your  Reverences  and 
Worships  say  what  you  will  of  it  (for,  as 
for  thinking,  all  who  do  think,  think 
pretty  much  alike  both  upon  it  and  other 
matters),  Love  is  certainly,  at  least  alpha- 
i  betically  speaking,  one  of  the  most 


88         THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


A  gitating, 

B  switching, 

C  onfouuded, 

D  evilish  affairs  of  life ;  the  most 

E  xtravagant, 

F  utilitous, 

G  aligaskinish, 

H  andy-dandyish, 

I  racundulous  (there  is  no  K  to  it)  and 

L  yrical  of  all  human  passions  :  at  the 
same  time,  the  most 

M  isgiving, 

N  innyhammering, 

O  bstipating, 

P  ragmatical, 

S  tridulous, 

R  idiculous,  though,  by  the  by,  the 
B  should  have  gone  first :  but,  in  short, 
'tis  of  auch  a  nature,  as  my  father  once 
told  my  uncle  Toby,  upon  the  close  of  a 
long  disserfcfition  upon  the  subject,  "  You 
can  scarce,"  said  he,  "  combine  two  ideas 
together  upon  it,  brother  Toby,  without 
an  hypallage."  What's  that?  cried  my 
uncle  Toby. 

The  cart  before  the  horse,  replied  my 
father. 

And  what  is  he  to  do  there  ?  cried  my 
uncle  Toby. 

Nothing,  quoth  my  father,  but  to  get 
in,  or  let  it  alone. 

Now  Widow  Wadman,  as  I  told  you  be- 
fore, would  do  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other. 

She  stood,  however,  ready  harnessed 
and  caparisoned  at  all  points,  to  watch 
accidents. 


CHAPTEB  XIV. 

THE  Fates,  who  certainly  all  foreknew 
of  these  amours  of  Widow  Wadman  and 
my  uncle  Toby,  had,  from  the  first  creation 
of  matter  and  motion  (and  with  more 
courtesy  than  they  usually  do  things,  of 
this  kind),  established  such  a  chain  of 
causes  and  effects  hanging  so  fast  to  one 
another,  that  it  was  scarce  possible  for  my 
uncle  Toby  to  have  dwelt  in  any  other 
house  in  the  world,  or  to  have  occupied 
any  other  garden  in  Christendom  but  the 
very  house  and  garden  which  join'd  and 
lay  parallel  to  Mrs.  Wadman's :  this,  with 
the  advantage  of  a  thicket  arbor  in  Mrs. 
Wadman's  garden,  but  planted  in  the 
hedge-row  of  my  uncle  Toby's,  put  all  the 
occasions  into  her  hands  which  love-mili- 


iancy  wanted  :  she  could  observe  my  uncle 
Toby's  motions,  and  was  mistress  likewise 
of  his  councils  of  war ;  and  as  his  unsus- 
pecting heart  had  given  leave  to  the  cor- 
poral, through  the  mediation  of  Bridget, 
to  make  her  a  wicker-gate  of  communica- 
tion to  enlarge  her  walks,  it  enabled  her 
to  carry  on  her  approaches  to  the  very 
door  of  the  sentry-box;  and  sometimes, 
out  of  gratitude,  to  make  an  attack,  and 
endeavor  to  blow  my  uncle  Toby  up  in 
the  very  sentry-box  itself. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  is  a  great  pity  ;  but  'tis  certain,  from 
every  day's  observation  of  man,  that  he 
may  be  set  on  fire,  like  a  candle,  at  either 
end,  provided  there  is  a  sufficient  wick  ;  if 
there  is  not,  there's  an  end  of  the  affair ; 
and  if  there  is,  by  lighting  it  at  the  bot- 
tom, as  the  flame  in  that  case  has  the  mis- 
fortune generally  to  put  out  itself,  there's 
an  end  of  the  affair  again. 

For  my  part,  could  I  always  have  the 
ordering  of  it  which  -way  I  would  be  burnt 
myself,  for  I  cannot  bear  the  thoughts  of 
being  burnt  like  a  beast,  I  would  oblige  a 
housewife  constantly  to  light  me  at  the 
top ;  for  then  I  should  burn  down  decently 
to  the  socket ;  that  is  from  my  head  to  my 
heart,  from  my  heart  to  my  liver,  from  my 
liver  to  my  bowels,  and  so  on  by  the 
mesenteric  veins  and  arteries,  through  all 
the  turns  and  lateral  insertions  of  the  in- 
testines and  their  tunicles. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AND  so,  to  make  sure  of  both  systems, 
Mrs.  Wadman  predetermined  to  light  my 
uncle  Toby  neither  at  this  end  nor  that ; 
but,  like  a  prodigal's  candle,  to  light  him, 
if  possible,  at  both  ends  at  once. 

Now,  through  all  the  lumber-rooms  of 
military  furniture,  including  both  of  horse 
and  foot,  from  the  great  arsenal  of  Venice 
to  the  Tower  of  London  (exclusive)  if 
Mrs.  Wadman  had  been  rummaging  for 
seven  years  together,  and  with  Bridget  to 
help  her,  she  could  not  have  found  any 
one  blind  or  mantelet  so  fit  for  her  purpose 
as  that  which  the  expediency  of  my  unofe 
Toby's  affairs  had  fix'd  up  ready  to  her 
hands. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


I  believe  I  have  told  you — but  I  don't 
know,  possibly  I  have ;  be  it  as  it  will,  'tis 
one  of  the  number  of  those  many  things 
which  a  man  had  better  do  over  again 
than  dispute  about  it — That  whatever 
town  or  fortress  the  corporal  was  at  work 
upon,  during  the  course  of  their  campaign, 
my  uncle  Toby  always  took  care,  on  the 
inside  of  his  sentry-box,  which  was  towards 
his  left  hand,  to  have  a  plan  of  the  place, 
fastened  up  with  two  or  three  pins  at  the 
top,  but  loose  at  the  bottom,  for  the  con- 
venieucy  of  holding  it  up  to  the  eye,  &c. 
...  as  occasions  required  ;  so  that  when 
an  attack  was  resolved  upon,  Mrs.  Wadman 
had  nothing  more  to  do,  when  she  had  got 
advanced  to  the  door  of  the  sentry-box, 
but  to  extend  her  right  hand  ;  and  edging 
in  her  left  foot  at  the  same  movement,  to 
take  hold  of  the  map  or  plan,  or  upright, 
or  whatever  it  was,  and  with  out-stretched 
neck  meeting  it  half-way,  to  advance  it 
towards  her ;  on  which  my  uncle  Toby's 
passions  were  sure  to  catch  fire,  for  he 
would  instantly  take  hold  of  the  map  in 
his  left  hand,  and  with  the  end  of  his  pipe 
in  the  other,  begin  an  explanation. 

When  the  attack  was  advanced  to  this 
point,  the  world  will  naturally  enter  into 
the  reasons  of  Mrs.  Wadman's  next  stroke 
of  generalship;  which  was,  to  take  my 
uncle  Toby's  tobacco-pipe  out  of  his  hand 
us  soon  as  she  possibly  could:  which, 
under  one  pretence  or  other,  but  generally 
that  of  pointing  more  distinctly  at  some 
redoubt  or  breastwork  in  the  map,  she 
would  effect  before  my  uncle  Toby  (poor 
soul ! )  had  well  march'd  above  half  a  dozen 
toises  with  it. 

It  obliged  my  uncle  Toby  to  make  use  of 
his  fore  finger. 

The  difference  it  made  in  the  attack  was 
this :  That  in  going  upon  it,  as  in  the  first 
case,  with  the  end  of  her  fore-finger 
against  the  end  of  my  uncle  Toby's  to- 
bacco-pipe, she  might  have  traveled  with 
it  along  the  line,  from  Dan  to  Beersheba, 
had  my  uncle  Toby's  lines  reached  so  far, 
without  any  effect:  for  as  there  was  no 
arterial  or  vital  heat  in  the  end  of  the  to- 
bacco-pipe, it  could  excite  no  sentiment ; 
it  could  neither  give  fire  by  pulsation,  nor 
receive  it  by  sympathy ;  't  was  nothing  but 
smoke. 

Whereas,  in  following  my  uncle  Toby's 
fore-finger  with  hers,  close  through  all  the 
little  turns  and  indentings  of  his  works, 
pressing  sometimes  against  the  side  of  it, 


then  treading  upon  its  nail,  then  tripping 
it  up,  then  touching  it  here,  then  there, 
and  so  on,  it  set  something  at  least  in 
motion. 

This,  though  slight  skirmishing,  and  at 
a  distance  from  the  main  body,  yet  drew 
on  the  rest;  for  here,  the  map  usually 
falling  with  the  back  of  it  close  to  the  side 
of  the  sentry-box,  my  uncle  Toby,  in  the 
simplicity  of  his  soul,  would  lay  his  hand 
flat  upon  it,  in  order  to  go  on  with  his 
explanation ;  and  Mrs.  Wadman,  by  a 
manoeuvre  as  quick  as  thought,  would  as 
certainly  place  hers  close  beside  it.  This 
at  once  opened  a  communication,  large 
enough  for  any  sentiment,  to  pass  or  re- 
pass,  which  a  person  skilled  in  the  ele- 
mentary and  practical  part  of  love-making 
has  occasion  for. 

By  bringing  up  her  fore-finger  parallel 
(as  before)  to  my  uncle  Toby's,  it  una- 
voidably brought  the  thumb  into  action  ; 
and  the  fore-finger  and  thumb  being  once 
engaged,  as  naturally  brought  in  the 
whole  hand.  Thine,  dear  uncle  Toby ! 
was  never  now  in  its  right  place — Mrs. 
Wadman  had  it  ever  to  take  up,  or,  with 
the  gentlest  pushings,  protrusions,  and 
equivocal  compressions,  that  a  hand  to  be 
removed  is  capable  of  receiving,  to  get  it 
pressed  a  hairbreadth  of  one  side  out  of 
her  way. 

Whilst  this  was  doing,  how  could  she 
forget  to  make  him  sensible  that  it  was 
her  leg  (and  no  one's  else)  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sentry-box,  which  slightly  press'd 
against  the  calf  of  his  !  So  that  my  uncle 
Toby  being  thus  attacked,  and  sore  pushed 
on  both  his  wings,  was  it  a  wonder,  if  now 
and  then,  it  put  his  centre  in  disorder  ? 

The  deuce  take  it !  said  my  uncle  Toby. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THESE  attacks  of  Mrs.  Wadman,  you 
will  readily  conceive  to  be  of  different 
kinds ;  varying  from  each  other  like  the 
attacks  which  history  is  full  of,  and  from 
the  same  reasons.  A  general  looker-on 
would  scarce  allow  them  to  be  attacks  at 
all ;  or  if  he  did,  would  confound  them  all 
together ;  but  I  write  not  to  them.  It 
will  be  time  enough  to  be  a  little  more 
exact  in  my  descriptions  of  them  as  I 
come  up  to  them,  which  will  not  be  for 
some  chapters;  having  nothing  more  to 


40 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


add  in  this,  but  that  in  a  bundle  of  ori- 
ginal papers  and  drawings,  which  my 
father  took  care  to  roll  up  oy  themselves, 
there  is  a  plan  of  Bouchain  in  perfect 
preservation  (and  shall  be  kept  so,  whilst 
I  have  power  to  preserve  anything) ;  upon 
the  lower  corner  of  which,  on  the  right 
hand  side,  there  are  still  remaining  the 
marks  of  a  snuffy  finger  and  thumb; 
which,  there  is  all  the  reason  in  the  world 
to  imagine,  were  Mrs.  Wadman's ;  for  the 
opposite  side  of  the  margin,  which  I  sup- 
pose to  have  been  my  uncle  Toby's,  is 
absolutely  clean.  This  seems  an  authen- 
ticated record  of  one  of  these  attacks  ;  for 
there  are  vestigia  of  the  two  punctures 
partly  grown  up,  but  still  visible  on  the 
opposite  corner  of  the  map,  which  are  un- 
questionably the  very  holes  through 
which  it  has  been  pricked  up  in  the 
sentry-box. 

By  all  that  is  priestly!  I  value  this 
precious  relic,  with  its  stigmata,  more 
than  all  the  relics  of  the  Romish  church. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

I  THINK,  an'  please  your  Honor,  quoth 
Trim,  the  fortifications  are  quite  de- 
stroyed; and  the  basin  is  upon  a  level 
with  the  mole.  I  think  so  too,  replied 
toy  uncle  Toby,  with  a  sigh  half  suppress- 
ed ;  but  step  into  the  parlor,  Trim,  for  the 
stipulation  ;  it  lies  upon  the  table. 

It  has  lain  there  these  six  weeks,  re- 
plied the  corporal ;  till  this  very  morning 
that  the  old  woman  kindled  the  fire  with 
it. 

Then,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  there  is  no 
further  occasion  for  our  services.  The 
more,  an'  please  your  Honor,  the  pity, 
said  the  corporal;  in  uttering  which,  he 
cast  his  spade  into  the  wheel-barrow, 
which  was  beside  him,  with  an  air  the 
most  expressive  of  disconsolation  that  can 
be  imagined,  and  was  heavily  turning 
about  to  look  for  his  pick-axe,  his  pioneer's 
shovel,  his  piquets,  and  other  little  mili- 
tary stores,  in  order  to  carry  them  off  the 
field,  when  a  heigh-ho  !  from  the  sentry- 
box,  which  being  made  of  thin  slit  deal, 
reverberated  the  sound  more  sorrowful  to 
his  ear,  forbade  him. 

No,  said  the  corporal  to  himself,  I'll  do  it 
before  his  Honor  rises  to-morrow  morning ; 
BO  taking  his  spade  out  of  the  wheel-barrow 


again,  with  a  little  earth  in  it,  as  if  to  level 
something  at  the  foot  of  the  glacis,  but 
with  a  real  intent  to  approach  nearer  to 
his  master,  in  order  to  divert  him,  he 
lopsen'd  a  sod  or  two,  pared  their  edges 
with  his  spade,  and  having  given  them  a 
gentle  blow  or  two  with  the  back  of  it,  he 
sat  himself  down  close  by  my  uncle  Toby's 
feet,  and  began  as  follows : 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IT  was  a  thousand  pities  ;  though  I  be- 
lieve, an'  please  your  Honor,  I  am  going 
to  say  but  a  foolish  kind  of  a  thing  for  a 
soldier — 

A  soldier,  cried  my  uncle  Toby,  inter- 
rupting the  corporal,  is  no  more  exempt 
from  saying  a  foolish  thing,  Trim,  than  a 
man  of  letters,  But  not  so  often,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  replied  the  corporal.  My 
uncle  Toby  gave  a  nod. 

It  was  a  thousand  pities,  then,  said  the 
corporal,  casting  his  eye  upon  Dunkirk 
ana  the  Mole,  as  Servius  Sulpicius,  in  re- 
turning out  of  Asia  (when  he  sailed  from 
uEgina  towards  Megara)  did  upon  Corinth 
and  Pyraeus, 

"  It  was  a  thousand  pities,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  to  destroy  these  works,  and 
a  thousand  pities  to  have  let  them  stand." 

Thou  art  right,  Trim,  in  both  cases  said 
my  uncle  Toby.  This,  continued  the  cor- 
poral, is  the  reason,  that  from  the  begin- 
ning of  their  demolition  to  the  end,  I 
have  never  once  whistled,  or  sung,  or 
laughed,  or  cryed,  or  talked  of  past-done 
deeds,  or  told  your  Honor  one  story,  good 
or  bad. 

Thou  hast  many  excellencies,  Trim,  said 
my  uncle  Toby ;  and  I  hold  it  not  the 
least  of  them,  as  thou  happenest  to  be  a 
story-teller,  that  of  the  number  thou  hast 
told  me,  either  to  amuse  me  in  my  pain- 
ful hours,  or  divert  me  in  my  grave  ones, 
thou  hast  seldom  told  me  a  bad  one. 

Because,  an'  please  your  Honor,  except 
one  of  a  King  of  Bohemia  and  hit  seven 
castles,  they  are  all  true ;  for  they  arc 
about  myself. 

I  do  not  like  the  subject  the  worse, 
Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  on  that  score. 
But,  prithee,  what  is  this  story?  Thou 
hast  excited  my  curiosity. 

I'll  tell  it  your  Honor,  quoth  the  cor- 
poral, directly.  Provided,  said  my  uncle 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


41 


Toby,  looking  earnestly  towards  Dunkirk 
and  the  Mole  again,  provided  it  is  not  a 
merry  one  :  to  such,  Trim,  a  man  should 
ever  bring  one  half  of  the  entertainment 
along  with  him  ;  and  the  disposition  I  am 
in  at  present,  would  wrong  both  thee, 
Trim,  and  thy  story.  It  is  not  a  merry 
one,  by  any  means,  replied  the  corporal. 
Nor  would  I  have  it  altogether  a  grave 
one,  added  my  uncle  Toby.  It  is  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other,  replied  the  corpo- 
ral ;  but  will  suit  your  honor  exactly. 
Then  I'll  thank  thee  for  it  with  all  my 
heart,  cried  my  uncle  Toby  ;  so  prithee 
begin  it,  Trim. 

The  corporal  made  his  reverence ;  and 
though  it  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  as  the 
world  imagines,  to  pull  off  a  lank  Monte- 
ro-cap  with  grace,  or  a  whit  less  difficult, 
in  my  conceptions,  when  a  man  is  sitting 
square  upon  the  ground,  to  make  a  bow 
so  teeming  with  respect  as  the  corporal 
was  wont,  yet,  by  suffering  the  palm  of 
his  right  hand,  which  was  towards  his 
master,  to  slip  backwards  upon  the  grass, 
a  little  beyond  his  body,  in  order  to  allow 
it  the  greater  sweep,  and  by  an  unforced 
compression,  at  the  same  time,  of  his  cap 
with  the  thumb  and  the  two  fore-fingers 
of  his  left,  by  which  the  diameter  of  the 
cap  became  reduced ;  so  that  it  might  be 
said  rather  to  be  insensibly  squeezed,  than 
pulled  off  with  a  flatus,  the  corporal  ac- 
quitted himself  of  both  in  a  better  manner 
than  the  posture  of  his  affairs  promised ; 
and  having  hemmed  twice,  to  find  in  what 
key  his  story  would  best  go,  and  best  suit 
his  master's  humor,  he  exchanged  a  sin- 
gle look  of  kindness  with  him,  and  set  off 
thus : 

THE  STOBY  OF  THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
HIS  SEVEN  CASTLES. 

There  was  a  certain  King  of  Bo — he — 
As  the  corporal  was  entering  the  con- 
fines of  Bohemia,  my  uncle  Toby  obliged 
him  to  halt  for  a  single  moment.  He  had 
set  out  bareheaded ;  having,  since  he 
pulled  off  his  Montero-cap  in  the  latter 
end  of  the  last  chapter,  left  it  lying  beside 
him  on  the  ground. 

The  eye  of  Goodness  espieth  all  things ; 
So  that  before  the  corporal  had  well  got 
through  the  first  five  words  of  his  story, 
had  my  uncle  Toby  twice  touched  his 
Montero-cap  with  the  end  of  his  cane, 
interrogatively :  as  much  as  to  say,  Why 
don't  you  put  it  on,  Trim  ?  Trim  took  it 


up  with  the  most  respectful  slowness,  and 
casting  a  glance  of  humiliation,  as  he  did 
it,  upon  the  embroidery  of  the  forepart, 
which  being  dismally  tarnished  and  frayed, 
moreover,  in  some  of  the  principal  leaves 
and  boldest  parts  of  the  pattern,  he  laid 
it  down  again  between  his  two  feet,  in 
order  to  moralize  upon  the  subject. 

'Tis  every  word  of  it  but  too  true,  cried 
my  uncle  Toby,  that  thou  art  about  to 
observe : 

"Nothing  in  this  world,  Trim,  is  made  to 
last  for  ever." 

But  when  tokens,  dear  Tom,  of  thy  love 
and  remembrance  wear  out,  said  Trim, 
what  shall  we  say  ? 

There  is  no  occasion,  Trim,  quoth  my 
uncle  Toby,  to  say  any  thing  else ;  and 
was  a  man  to  puzzle  his  brains  till  Dooms- 
day, I  believe,  Trim,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible. 

The  corporal  perceiving  my  uncle  Toby 
was  in  the  right,  and  that  it  would  be  in 
vain  for  the  wit  of  man  to  think  of  ex- 
tracting a  purer  moral  from  his  cap,  with- 
out further  attempting  it,  he  put  it  on ; 
and  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead 
to  rub  out  a  pensive  wrinkle,  which  the 
text  and  doctrine  between  them  had  en- 
gendered, he  returned,  with  the  same  look 
and  tone  of  voice,  to  his  story  of  the  King 
of  Bohemia  and  his  seven  castles. 

THE  STOKT  OF  THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
HIS  SEVEN  CASTLES,  CONTINUED. 

There  was  a  certain  King  of  Bohemia ; 
but  in  whose  reign,  except  his  own,  I  am 
not  able  to  inform  your  Honor. 

I  do  not  desire  it  of  thee,  Trim,  by  any 
means,  cried  my  uncle  Toby. 

It  was  a  little  before  the  time,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  when  giants  were  beginning 
to  leave  off  breeding :  but  in  what  year  of 
our  Lord  that  was — 

I  would  not  give  a  halfpenny  to  know, 
said  my  uncle  Toby. 

Only,  an'  please  your  Honor,  it  makes 
a  story  look  the  better  in  the  face. 

'Tis  thy  own,  Trim,  so  ornament  it  after 
thy  own  fashion  ;  and  take  any  date,  con- 
tinued my  uncle  Toby,  looking  pleasantly 
upon  him ;  take  any  date  in  the  whole 
world  thou  choosest,  and  put  it  to ;  thou 
art  heartily  welcome. 

The  corporal  bowed ;  for  of  every  cen- 
tury, and  of  every  year  of  that  century, 
from  the  first  creation  of  the  world  down 
to  Noah's  flood;  and  from  Noah's  flood 


42          THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W  ADMAN; 


to  the  birth  of  Abraham  ;  through  all  the 
pilgrimages  of  the  patriarchs,  to  the  de- 
parture of  the  Israelites  out  of  Egypt; 
and  throughout  all  the  Dynasties,  Olym- 
piads, Urbeconditas,  and  other  memorable 
epochs  of  the  different  nations  of  the 
world,  down  to  the  coming  of  Christ,  and 
from  thence  to  the  very  moment  in  which 
the  corporal  was  telling  his  story,  had  my 
uncle  Toby  subjected  this  vast  empire  of 
time,  and  all  its  abysses,  at  his  feet ;  but 
as  Modesty  scarce  touches  with  a  finger 
what  Liberality  offers  her  with  both  hands 
open,  the  corporal  contented  himself  with 
the  very  worst  year  of  the  whole  bunch ; 
which,  to  prevent  your  Honors  of  the 
Majority  and  Minority  from  tearing  the 
very  flesh  off  your  bones  in  contestation, 
"Whether  that  year  is  not  always  the 
last-cast  year  of  the  last-cast  almanac?" 
I  tell  you  plainly,  it  was ;  but  from  a  dif- 
ferent reason  than  you  wot  of. 

It  was  the  year  next  him,  which,  being 
the  year  of  our  Lord  seventeen  hundred 
and  twelve,  when  the  Duke  of  Ormond 
was  playing  the  Devil  in  Flanders,  the 
corporal  took  it,  and  set  out  with  it  afresh 
on  his  expedition  to  Bohemia. 

THE  STOKY  OF  THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
HIS  SEVEN  CASTLES,  CONTINUED. 

In  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  twelve,  there  was,  an' 
please  your  Honor  — 

To  tell  thee  truly,  Trim,  quoth  my  uncle 
Toby,  any  other  date  would  have  pleased 
me  much  better,  not  only  on  account  of 
the  sad  stain  upon  our  history  that  year, 
in  marching  off  our  troops,  and  refusing 
to  cover  the  siege  of  Quesnoi,  though 
Fagel  was  carrying  on  the  works  with 
such  incredible  vigor,  but  likewise  on  the 
score,  Trim,  of  thy  own  story ;  because  if 
there  are — and  which,  from  what  thou 
hast  dropt,  I  partly  suspect  to  be  the  fact 
— if  there  are  giants  in  it — 

There  is  but  one,  an'  please  your  Honor. 

'Tis  as  bad  as  twenty,  replied  my  uncle 
Toby;  thou  should'st  have  carried  him 
back  some  seven  or  eight  hundred  years 
out  of  harm's  way,  both  of  critics  and 
other  people  ;  and  therefore  I  advise  thee, 
if  ever  thou  tellest  it  again — 

If  I  live,  an'  please  your  Honor,  but 
once  to  get  through  it,  I  will  never  tell  it 
again,  quoth  Trim,  either  to  man,  woman, 
or  child. 

Poo,  poo !  said  my  uncle  Toby ;   but 


with  accents  of  such  sweet  encouragement 
did  he  utter  it,  that  the  corporal  went  on 
with  his  story  with  more  alacrity  than 
ever. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA   AND 
HIS  SEVEN  CASTLES,  CONTINUED. 

There  was,  'an  please  your  Honor,  said 

the  corporal,  raising  his  voice  and  rubbing 

the  palms  of  his  two  hands  cheerily  to- 

ether  as  he  began,  a  certain  King  of  Bo- 

emia — 

Leave  out  the  date  entirely,  Trim,  quoth 
my  uncle  Toby,  leaning  forwards,  and  lay- 
ing his  Land  gently  upon  the  corporal's 
shoulder  to  temper  the  interruption,  leave 
it  out  entirely,  Trim ;  a  story  passes  very 
well  without  these  niceties,  unless  one  is 
pretty  sure  of  'em. 

Sure  of  'em  !  said  the  corporal,  shaking 
his  head. 

Right,  answered  my  uncle  Toby :  it  is 
not  easy,  Trim,  for  one,  bred  up  as  thou 
and  I  have  been  to  arms,  who  seldom  looks 
further  forward  than  to  the  end  of  his 
musket,  or  backwards  beyond  his  knap- 
sack, to  know  much  about  this  matter, 
God  bless  your  Honor  !  said  the  corporal, 
won  by  the  manner  of  my  uncle  Toby's 
reasoning,  as  much  as  by  the  reasoning 
itself,  he  has  something  else  to  do  ;  if  not 
in  action,  or  on  a  march,  or  upon  duty  in 
his  garrison,  he  has  his  firelock,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  to  furbish,  his  accoutrements 
to  take  care  of,  his  regimentals  to  mend, 
himself  to  shave  and  keep  clean,  so  as  to 
appear  always  like  what  he  is  upon  the 
parade  ;  what  business,added  the  corporal 
triumphantly,  has  a  soldier,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  to  know  anything  at  all  of 
geography  t 

Thou  would' st  have  said  chronology, 
Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby ;  for  as  for 
geography,  'tis  of  absolute  use  to  him  ;  he 
must  be  acquainted  intimately  with  every 
country  and  its  boundaries  where  his  pro- 
fession carries  him  ;  he  should  know  every 
town  and  city,  and  village  and  hamlet, 
with  the  canals,  the  roads,  and  hollow- 
ways,  which  lead  up  to  them.  There  is 
not  a  river  or  a  rivulet  he  passes,  Trim, 
but  he  should  be  able,  at  first  sight,  to  tell 
thee  what  is  its  name,  in  what  mountains 
it  takes  its  rise,  what  is  its  course,  how 
far  it  is  navigable,  where  fordable,  where 
not ;  he  should  know  the  fertility  of  every 
valley,  as  well  as  the  hind  who  ploughs 
it;  and  be  able  to  describe,  or,  if  it  is  re- 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


43 


quired,  to  give  thee  an  exact  map  of  all 
trie  plains  and  defiles,  the  forts,  the 
acclivities,  the  woods  and  morasses, 
through  and  by  which  his  army  is  to 
march;  he  should  know  their  produce, 
their  plants,  their  minerals,  their  waters, 
their  animals,  their  seasons,  their  climates, 
their  heats  and  colds,  their  inhabitants, 
their  customs,  their  language,  their  policy, 
and  even  their  religion. 

Is  it  else  to  be  conceived,  corporal, 
continued  my  uncle  Toby,  rising  up 
in  his  sentry-box  as  he  began  to  warm 
in  this  part  of  his  discourse,  how  Marl- 
borough  could  have  marched  his  army 
from  the  banks  of  the  Maes  to  Bel- 
burg  ;  from  Belburg  to  Kerpenord  (here 
the  corporal  could  sit  no  longer) ;  from 
Kerpenord,  Trim,  to  Kalsaken  ;  from  Kal- 
saken  to  Newdorf ;  from  Newdorf  to  Lan- 
denbourg ;  from  Landenbourg  to  Milden- 
heim ;  from  Mildenheim  to  Elchingen ; 
from  Elchingen  to  Gingen  ;  from  Gingen 
to  Balmerchoffen  ;  from  Balmerchoffen  to 
Skellenburg,  where  he  broke  in  upon  the 
gnemy's  works,  forced  his  passage  over 
the  Danube,  crossed  the  Lech,  pushed  on 
his  troops  into  the  heart  of  the  empire, 
marching  at  the  head  of  them  through 
Fribourg,  Hokenwert  and  Schonevelt,  to 
the  plains  of  Blenheim  and  Hochstet? 
Great  as  he  was,  corporal,  he  could  not 
have  advanced  a  step,  or  made  one  single 
day's  march,  without  the  aids  of  geo- 
graphy. As  for  chronology,  I  own,  Trim, 
continued  my  uncle  Toby,  sitting  down 
again  coolly  in  his  sentry-box,  that,  of  all 
others,  it  seems  a  science  which  the  sol- 
dier might  best  spare,  was  it  not  for  the 
lights  which  that  science  must  one  day 
give  him,  in  determining  the  invention 
of  powder ;  the  furious  execution  of 
which,  reversing  everything,  like  thunder, 
before  it  has  become  a  new  era  to  us 
of  military  improvements,  changing  so 
totally  the  nature  of  attacks  and  defences, 
both  by  sea  and  land,  and  awakening  so 
much  art  and  skill  in  doing  it,  that  the 
world  cannot  be  too  exact  in  ascertaining 
the  precise  time  of  its  discovery,  or  too 
inquisitive  in  knowing  what  great  man 
was  the  discoverer,  and  what  occaaions 
gave  birth  to  it. 

I  am  far  from  controverting,  continued 
my  uncle  Toby,  what  historians  agree  in, 
that  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1380,  under 
the  reign  of  Wencelaus,  son  of  Charles 
the  Fourth,  a  certain  priest,  whose  name 


was  Schwartz,  showed  the  use  of  powder 
to  the  Venetians,  in  their  wars  against  the 
Genoese  ;  but  'tis  certain  he  was  not  the 
first;  because,  if  we  are  to  believe  Don 
Pedro,  the  Bishop  of  Leon — 

How  came  priests  and  bishops,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  to  trouble  their  heads 
so  much  about  gunpowder  ? 

God  knows,  said  my  uncle  Toby ;  his 
providence  brings  good  out  of  every  thing, 
and  he  avers,  in  his  chronicle  of  King 
Alphonsus,  who  reduced  Toledo,  that  in 
the  year  1343,  which  was  full  thirty -seven 
years  before  that  time,  the  secret  of  pow- 
der was  well  known,  and  employed  with 
success,  both  by  Moors  and  Christians,  not 
only  in  their  sea-combats,  at  that  period, 
but  in  many  of  their  most  memorable 
sieges  in  Spain  and  Barbary ;  and  all  the 
world  knows,  that  Friar  Bacon  had  wrote 
expressly  about  it,  and  had  generously 
given  the  world  a  receipt  to  make  it  by, 
above  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  before 
even  Schwartz  was  born ;  and  that  the 
Chinese,  added  my  uncle  Toby,  embarrass 
us,  and  all  accounts  of  it,  still  more,  by 
boasting  of  the  invention  some  hundreds 
of  years  even  before  him. 

they  are  a  pack  of  liars,  I  believe, 
cried  Trim. 

They  are  somehow  or  other  deceived, 
said  my  uncle  Toby,  in  this  matter,  as  is 
plain  to  me  from  the  present  miserable 
state  of  military  architecture  amongst 
them ;  which  consists  of  nothing  more 
than  a  foss6  with  a  brick  wall  without 
flanks ;  and  for  what  they  give  us  as  a 
bastion  at  each  angle  of  it,  'tis  so  bar- 
barously constructed,  that  it  looks  for  all 
the  world — like  one  of  my  seven  castles, 
an'  please  your  Honor,  quoth  Trim. 

My  uncle  Toby,  though  in  the  utmost 
distress  for  a  comparison,  most  courteously 
refused  Trim's  offer,  till  Trim,  telling  him 
he  had  half  a  dozen  more  in  Bohemia, 
which  he  knew  not  how  to  get  off  his 
hands,  my  uncle  Toby  was  so  touched  with 
the  pleasantry  of  heart  of  the  corporal, 
that  he  discontinued  his  dissertation  upon 
gunpowder,  and  begged  the  corporal 
orthwith  to  go  on  with  his  story  of  the 
King  of  Bohemia  and  his  seven  castles. 

THE  STOEY  OF  THE  KINO  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
HIS  SEVEN  CASTLES,  CONTINUED. 

This  unfortunate  King  of  Bohemia,  said 
Trim- 
Was  he  unfortunate  then?  cried  my 


44          THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


uncle  Toby,  for  he  had  been  so  wrapt  up 
in  his  dissertation  upon  gunpowder,  and 
other  military  affairs,  that  though  he  had 
desired  the  corporal  to  go  on,  yet  the 
many  interruptions  he  had,  given,  dwelt 
not  so  strong  on  his  fancy  as  to  account 
for  the  epithet.  Was  he  unfortunate  then, 
Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  pathetically. 

The  corporal,  wishing  first  the  word  and 
all  its  synonimas  at  the  devil,  forthwith 
began  to  run  back  in  his  mind  the  prin- 
cipal events  in  the  King  of  Bohemia's 
story  ;  from  every  one  of  which,  it  ap- 
pearing that  he  was  the  most  fortunate 
man  that  ever  existed  in  the  world,  it  put 
the  corporal  to  a  stand ;  for  not  caring  to 
retract  his  epithet,  and  less  to  explain  it, 
and  least  of  all  to  twist  his  tale  (like  men 
of  lore)  to  serve  a  system,  he  looked  up 
in  my  uncle  Toby's  face  for  assistance ; 
but  seeing  it  was  the  very  thing  my  uncle 
Toby  sat  in  expectation  of  himself,  after 
a  hum  and  a  haw,  he  went  on — 

The  King  of  Bohemia,  an'  please  your 
Honor,  replied  the  corporal,  was  unfortu- 
nate, as  thus :  That  taking  great  pleasure 
and  delight  in  navigation  and  all  sorts  of 
sea  affairs,  and  there  happening  through- 
out the  whole  kingdom  of  Bohemia  to  be 
no  sea-port  town  whatever — 

How  the  deuce  should  there,  Trim? 
cried  my  uncle  Toby  ;  for  Bohemia  being 
totally  inland,  it  could  have  happen'd  no 
otherwise. 

It  might,  said  Trim,  if  it  had  pleased  God. 

My  uncle  Toby  never  spoke  of  the  being 
and  natural  attributes  of  God,  but  with 
diffidence  and  hesitation. 

I  believe  not,  replied  my  uncle  Toby, 
after  some  pause ;  for  being  inland,  as  I 
said,  and  having  Silesia  and  Moravia  to 
the  east ;  Lusatia  and  Upper  Saxony  to 
the  north ;  Franconia  to  the  west,  and 
Bavaria  to  the  south,  Bohemia  could  not 
have  been  propelled  to  the  sea  without 
ceasing  to  be  Bohemia  ;  nor  could  the  sea, 
on  the  other  hand,  have  come  up  to  Bo- 
hemia, without  overflowing  a  great  part 
of  Germany,  and  destroying  millions  of 
unfortunate  inhabitants  who  could  make 
no  defence  against  it.  Scandalous,  cried 
Trim.  Which  would  bespeak,  added  my 
uncle  Toby,  mildly,  such  a  want  of  com- 
passion in  him  who  is  the  father  of  it, 
that  I  think,  Trim,  the  thing  could  have 
happened  no  way. 

The  corporal  made  the  bow  of  unfeigned 
conviction,  and  went  on  : 


Now  the  King  of  Bohemia,  with  his 
Queen  and  courtiers,  happening  one  fine 
summer's  evening  to  walk  out-  Ay,  there 
the  word  happening  is  right,  Trim,  cried  my 
uncle  Toby ;  for  the  King  of  Bohemia  and 
his  Queen  might  have  walked  out  or  let 
it  alone — 'twas  a  matter  of  contingency 
which  might  happen  or  not,  just  as  chance 
ordered  it. 

King  William  was  of  an  opinion,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  quoth  Trim,  that 
every  thing  was  predestined  for  us  in  this 
world  ;  insomuch,  that  he  would  often  say 
to  his  soldiers,  that  "  every  ball  had  its 
billet."  He  was  a  great  man,  said  my 
uncle  Toby.  And  I  believe,  continued 
Trim,  to  this  day,  that  the  shot  which  dis- 
abled me  at  the  battle  of  Landen,  was 
pointed  at  my  knee  for  no  other  purpose 
but  to  take  me  out  of  his  service,  and 
place  me  in  your  Honor's,  where  I  should 
be  taken  so  much  better  care  of  in  my  old 
age.  It  shall  never,  Trim,  be  construed 
otherwise,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 

The  heart,  both  of  the  master  and  the 
man,  were  alike  subject  to  sudden  over- 
flowings— a  short  silence  ensued. 

Besides,  said  the  corporal,  resuming  the 
discourse,  but  in  a  gayer  accent,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  that  single  shot,  I  had  never, 
an'  please  your  Honor,  been  in  love. 

So  thou  wast  once  in  love,  Trim  ?  said 
my  uncle  Toby,  smiling. 

Souse  !  replied  the  corporal — over  head 
and  ears  !  an'  please  your  Honor.  Pri- 
thee, when?  where?  and  how  came  it  to 
pass  ?  I  never  heard  one  word  of  it  be- 
fore, quoth  my  uncle  Toby.  I  dare  say, 
answered  Trim,  that  every  drummer  and 
sergeant's  son  in  the  regiment  knew  of  it. 
'Tis  high  time  I  should,  said  my  uncle 
Toby. 

Your  Honor  remembers  with  concern, 
said  the  corporal,  the  total  rout  and  con- 
fusion of  our  camp  and  army  at  the  affair 
of  Landen  :  every  one  was  left  to  shift  for 
himself;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
regiments  of  Wyndham,  Lumley,  and  Gal- 
way,  which  covered  the  retreat  over  the 
bridge  of  Neerspeeken.  the  king  himself 
could  scarce  have  gained  it;  he  was 
pressed  hard,  as  your  Honor  knows,  on 
every  side  of  him. 

Gallant  mortal !  cried  my  uncle  Toby, 
caught  with  enthusiasm,  this  moment ; 
now  that  all  is  lost,  I  see  him  galloping 
across  me,  corporal,  to  the  left,  to  bring 
up  the  remains  of  the  English  horse  along 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


with  him,  to  support  the  right,  and  tear 
the  laurel  from  Luxembourg's  brows,  if  yet 
'tis  possible ;  I  see  him  with  the  knot  of 
his  scarf  just  shot  off,  infusing  fresh  spirits 
into  poor  Gal  way's  regiment,  riding  along 
the  line — then  wheeling  about,  and  charg- 
ing Conti  at  the  head  of  it.  Brave !  brave, 
by  heaven  !  cried  my  uncle  Toby ;  he  de- 
serves a  crown.  As  richly,  as  a  thief  a 
halter,  shouted  Trim. 

My  uncle  Toby  knew  the  corporal's 
loyalty — otherwise  the  comparison  was 
not  at  all  to  his  mind :  it  did  not  alto- 
gether strike  the  corporal's  fancy  when  he 
had  made  it  ;  but  it  could  not  be  recalled ; 
so  he  had  nothing  to  do,  but  proceed. 

As  the  number  of  wounded  was  pro- 
digious, and  no  one  had  time  to  think  of 
any  thing  but  his  own  safety;  though 
Talmash,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  brought  off 
the  foot  with  great  prudence.  But  I  was 
left  upon  the  field,  said  the  corporal. 
Thou  wast  so,  poor  fellow!  replied  my 
uncle  Toby.  So  that  it  was  noon  the  next 
day,  continued  the  corporal,  before  I  was 
exchanged,  and  put  into  a  cart  with 
thirteen  or  fourteen  more,  in  order  to  be 
conveyed  to  our  hospital. 

There  is  no  part  of  the  body,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  where  a  wound  occasions 
more  intolerable  anguish  than  upon  the 
knee. 

Except  the  groin,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 
An'  please  your  Honor,  replied  the  corpo- 
ral, the  knee,  in  my  opinion,  must  certainly 
be  the  most  acute,  there  being  so  many 
tendons  and  what-d'-ye-call'-ems  all 
about  it  (for  I  know  their  names  as  little 
as  thou  dost) ;  but  moreover,  *  *  * 

It  is  for  that  reason,  quoth  my  uncle 
Toby,  that  the  groin  is  infinitely  more 
sensible;  there  being  not  only  as  many 
tendons  and  what-d'-ye-call-'ems. 

Mrs.  Wadinan,  who  had  been  all  the 
time  in  her  arbor,  instantly  stopped  her 
breath,  unpinned  her  mob  at  the  chin,  and 
stood  upon  one  leg. 

The  dispute  was  maintained  with  ami- 
cable and  equal  force  betwixt  my  uncle 
Toby  and  Trim,  for  some  time,  till  Trim 
at  length  recollecting  that  he  had  often 
cried  at  his  master's  sufferings,  but  never 
shed  a  tear  at  his  own,  was  for  giving  up 
the  point  which  my  uncle  Toby  would 
not  allow.  'Tia  a  proof  of  nothing,  Trim, 
said  he,  but  the  generosity  of  thy  temper. 

So  that  whether  the  pain  of  a  wound 
In  the  groin  (cceferis  paribus)  is  greater 


than  the  pain  of  a  wound  in  the  knee— 
or 

Whether  the  pain  of  a  wound  in  the 
knee  is  not  greater  than  the  pain  of  a 
wound  in  the  groin,  are  points  which  to 
this  day  remain  unsettled. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  anguish  of  my  knee,  continued 
the  corporal,  was  excessive  in  itself;  and 
the  uneasiness  of  the  cart,  with  the  rough- 
ness of  the  roads,  which  were  terribly  cut 
up,  making  bad  still  worse,  every  step 
was  death  to  me ;  so  that  with  the  loss 
of  blood,  and  the  want  of  care-taking  of 
me,  and  a  fever  I  felt  coming  on  besides 
— (Poor  soul  1  said  my  uncle  Toby.) 
All  together,  an'  please  your  Honor,  wag 
more  than  I  could  sustain. 

I  was  telling  my  suffering  to  a  young 
woman,  at  a  peasant's  house,  where  our 
cart,  which  was  the  last  of  the  line,  had 
halted ;  they  had  helped  me  in,  and  the 
young  woman  had  taken  a  cordial  out  of 
her  pocket  and  dropped  it  upon  some 
sugar ;  and  seeing  it  had  cheered  me,  she 
had  given  it  me  a  second  and  a  third 
time.  So  I  was  telling  her,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  the  anguish  I  was  in,  and 
was  saying  it  was  so  intolerable  to  me, 
that  I  had  much  rather  lie  down  upon  the 
bed,  turning  my  face  towards  one  which 
was  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  die, 
than  go  on — when,  upon  the  attempting 
to  lead  me  to  it,  I  fainted  in  her  arms. 
She  was  a  good  soul!  as  your  Honor, 
said  the  corporal,  wiping  his  eyes,  will 
hear. 

I  thought  love  had  been  a  joyous  thing, 
quoth  my  uncle  Toby. 

'Tis  the  most  serious  thing,  an'  please 
your  Honor  (sometimes),  that  is  in  the 
world. 

By  the  persuasion  of  the  young  woman, 
continued  the  corporal,  the  cart  with  the 
wounded  men  set  off  without  me  ;  she  had 
assured  them  I  should  expire  immediate- 
ly if  I  was  put  into  the  cart.  So  when  I 
came  to  myself,  I  found  myself  in  a  still, 
quiet  cottage,  with  no  one  but  the  young 
woman,  and  the  peasant  and  his  wife.  I 
was  laid  across  the  bed,  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  with  my  wounded  leg  upon  a 
chair,  and  the  young  woman  beside  me, 
holding  the  corner  of  her  handkerchief 


46          THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


dipped  in  vinegar  to  my  nose  with  one 
hand,  and  rubbing  my  temples  with  the 
other. 

I  took  her  at  first  for  the  daughter  of 
the  peasant  (for  it  was  no  inn),  so  had 
offered  her  a  little  purse  with  eighteen  flor- 
ins in,  which  my  poor  brother  Tom  (here 
Trim  wiped  his  eyes)  had  sent  me  as  a 
token,  by  a  recruit,  just  before  he  set  out 
for  Lisbon. 

I  never  told  your  Honor  that  piteous 
story  yet— (Here  Trim  wip'd  his  eyes  a 
third  time.) 

The  young  woman  call'd  the  old  man 
and  his  wife  into  the  room  to  show  them 
the  money,  in  order  to  gain  me  credit  for  a 
bed  and  what  little  necessaries  I  should 
want,  till  I  should  be  in  a  condition  to  be 
got  to  the  hospital.  Come  then,  said  she, 
tying  up  the  purse,  I'll  be  your  banker; 
but  as  that  office  alone  will  not  keep  me 
employed,!'!!  be  your  nurse  too.  j 

I  thought  by  her  manner  of  speaking 
this,  as  well  as  by  her  dress,  which  I  then 
began  to  consider  more  attentively,  that 
the  young  woman  could  not  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  peasant. 

She  was  in  black  down  to  her  toes,  with 
her  hair  concealed  under  a  cambric,  bor- 
der, laid  close  to  her  forehead :  she  was 
one  of  those  kind  of  nuns,  an'  please  your 
Honor,  of  which  your  Honor  knows  there 
are  a  good  many  in  Flanders,  which  they 
let  go  loose.  By  thy  description,  Trim, 
said  my  uncle  Toby,  I  dare  say  she  was  a 
young  Beguine,  of  which  there  was  none 
to  be  found  anywhere  but  in  Spanish 
Netherlands, -except  at  Amsterdam:  they 
differ  from  nuns,  in  this,  that  they  can 
quit  their  cloister  if  they  choose  to  marry ; 
tney  visit  and  take  care  of  the  sick  by 
profession.  I  had  rather,  for  my  own 
part,  they  did  it  out  of  good-nature. 

She  often  told  me,  quoth  Trim,  she  did 
it  for  the  love  of  Christ.  I  did  not  like  it. 
I  believe,  Trim,  we  are  both  wrong,  said 
my  uncle  Toby :  we'll  ask  Mr.  Yorick 
about  it  to-night  at  my  brother  Shandy's ; 
BO  put  me  in  mind,  added  my  uncle 
Toby. 

The  young  Beguine,  continued  the  cor- 
poral, had  scarcely  given  herself  time  to 
tell  me,  "  she  would  be  my  nurse,"  when 
she  hastily  turned  about  to  begin  the  of- 
fice of  one,  and  prepare  something  for 
me ;  and  in  a  short  time,  though  I  thought 
it  a  long  cne,  she  came  back  with  flan- 
nels, &c  &c.,  and  having  fomented  my 


knee  soundly  for  "a  couple  of  hours,  &c., 
and  made  me  a  basin  of  thin  gruel  for  my 
supper,  she  wished  me  rest,  and  promised 
to  be  with  me  early  in  the  morning.  She 
wished  me,  an'  please  your  Honor,  what 
was  not  to  be  had.  My  fever  ran  very 
high  that  very  night;  her  figure  made 
s'ad  disturbance  within  me;  I  was  every 
moment  cutting  the  world  in  two,  to  give 
her  half  of  it;  and  every  moment  was  I 
crying,  That  I  had  nothing  but  a  knap- 
sack and  eighteen  florins  to  share  with 
her.  The  whole  night  long  was  the  fair 
Beguine,  like  an  angel,  close  by  my  bed- 
side, holding  back  my  curtain,  and  offer- 
ing me  cordials;  and  I  was  only  awak- 
ened from  my  dream  by  her  coming  there 
at  the  hour  promised,  and  giving  them  in 
reality.  In  truth,  she  was  scarce  ever 
from  me;  and  so  accustomed  was  I  to 
receive  life  from  her  hands,  that  my  heart 
sickened  and  I  lost  my  color,  when  she 
left  the  room;  and  yet,  continued  the 
corporal,  (making  one  of  the  strangest  re- 
flections upon  it,  in  the  world) — 

"  It  was  not  love ;"  for  during  the  three 
weeks  she  was  almost  constantly  with  me, 
fomenting  my  knee  with  her  hand  night 
and  day,  I  can  honestly  say,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  that  ******* 
*  *  *  once. — 

That  was  very  odd,  Trim,  quoth  my 
uncle  Toby. 

I  think  so  too,  said  Mrs.  Wadman. 

It  never  did,  said  the  corporal. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

BUT  't  is  no  marvel,  continued  the  cor- 
poral, seeing  my  uncle  Toby  musing  upon 
it,  for  love,  an'  please  your  Honor,  is  ex- 
actly like  war,  hi  this;  that  a  soldier, 
though  he  has  escaped  three  weeks  com- 
plete o'  Saturday  night,  may,  neverthe- 
less, be  shot  through  his  heart  on  Sunday 
morning.  It  happened  so  here,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  with  this  difference  only, 
that  it  was  on  Sunday  in  the  afternoon, 
when  I  fell  in  love  all  at  once  with 
sisserara.  It  burst  upon  me,  an'  please 
your  Honor,  like  a  bomb,  scarce  giving 
me  time  to  say  "  God  bless  me." 

I  thought,  Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  a 
man  never  fell  in  love  so  very  sudden. 

Yes,  an'  please  your  Honor,  if  he  is  in 
the  way  of  it,  replied  Trim. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


47 


I  prithee,  quoth  ray  uncle  Toby,  inform 
me  how  this  matter  happened. 

With  all  pleasure  said  the  corporal, 
making  a  bow. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

I  HAD  escaped,  continued  the  corporal, 
fell  that  time  from  falling  in  love,  and  had 
gone  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  had  it 
not  been  predestined  otherwise.  There  is 
no  resisting  our  fate.  It  was  on  Sunday, 
in  the  afternoon,  as  I  told  your  Honor. 

The  old  man  and  hia  wife  had  walked 
out. 

Every  thing  was  still  and  huah  as  mid- 
night about  the  house. 

There  was  not  so  much  as  a  duck  or  a 
duckling  about  the  yard, 

When  the  fair  Beguine  came  in  to  see 
me. 

My  wound  was  then  in  a  fair  way  of 
doing  well,  the  inflammation  had  been 
gone  off  for  some  time;  but  it  was 
succeeded  with  an  itching  both  above  and 
below  my  knee,  so  insufferable,  that  I  had 
not  shut  my  eyes  the  whole  night  for  it. 

Let  me  see  it,  said  she,  kneeling  down 
upon  the  ground  parallel  to  my  knee,  and 
laying  her  hand  upon  the  part  below  it. 
It  only  wants  rubbing  a  little,  said  the 
Beguine;  so  covering  it  with  the  bed- 
clothes, she  began  with  the  fore-finger  of 
her  right  hand  to  rub  under  my  knee, 
guiding  her  fore-finger  backwards  and  for- 
wards by  the  edge  of  the  flannel  which 
kept  on  the  dressing. 

In  five  or  six  minutes  I  felt  slightly  the 
end  of  her  second  finger,  and  presently  it 
was  laid  flat  with  the  other,  and  she  con- 
tinued rubbing  in  that  way  round  and 
round  for  a  good  while  :  it  then  came  into 
my  head,  that  I  should  fall  in  love :  I 
blushed  when  I  saw  how  white  a  hand  she 
had.  I  shall  never,  an  please  your  Honor 
behold  another  hand  so  white  whilst  I  live. 

Not  in  that  place,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 

Though  it  was  the  most  serious  despair 
in  nature  to  the  corporal,  he  could  not 
forbear  smiling. 

The  young  Beguine,  continued  the  cor- 
poral, perceiving  it  was  of  great  service  to 
me,  from  rubbing  for  some  time,  with  two 
fingers,  proceeded  to  rub  at  length  with 
three,  till  by  little  and  little  she  brought 
down  the  fourth,  and  then  rubbed  with 
her  whole  hand.  I  will  never  say  another 


word,  an'  please  your  Honor,  upon  hands 
again;  but  it  was  softer  than  satin. 

Prithee,  Trim,  commend  it  as  much  as 
thou  wilt,  said  my  uncle  Toby;  I  shall 
hear  thy  story  with  the  more  delight. 
The  corporal  thanked  his  master  most 
unfeignedly ;  but  having  nothing  to  say 
upon  the  Beguine's  hand  but  the  same 
over  again,  he  proceeded  to  the  effects  of 
it. 

The  fair  Beguine,  said  the  corporal, 
continued  rubbing  with  her  whole  hand 
under  my  knee,  till  I  fear'd  her  zeal  would 
weary  her.  "  I  would  do  a  thousand  times 
more,"  said  she,  "  for  the  love  of  Christ." 
In  saying  which,  she  pass'd  her  hand 
across  the  flannel,  te  the  part  above  my 
knee,  which  I  had  equally  complained  of, 
and  rubb'd  it  also. 

I  perceived  then,  I  was  beginning  to  be 
in  love. 

As  she  continued  rub-rub-rubbing,  I 
felt  it  spread  from  under  her  hand,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  to  every  part  of  my 
frame. 

The  more  she  rubbed  and  the  longer 
strokes  she  took,  the  more  the  fire  kindled 
in  my  veins,  till  at  length,  by  two  or  three 
strokes  longer  than  the  rest,  my  passion 
rose  to  the  highest  pitch.  I  seized  her 
hand. 

And  then  thou  clapped'st  it  to  thy  lips, 
Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  and  madest  a 
speech. 

Whether  the  corporal's  amour  termina- 
ted precisely  in  the  way  my  uncle  Toby 
described  it,  is  not  material ;  it  is  enough 
that  it  contained  in  it  the  essence  of  all 
the  love-romances  which  ever  have  been 
wrote  since  the  beginning  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

As  soon  as  the  corporal  had  finished  the 
story  of  his  amour,  or  rather  my  uncle 
Toby  for  him,  Mrs.  Wadman  silently 
sallied  forth  from  her  arbor,  replaced  the 
pin  in  her  mob,  pass'd  the  wicker-gate, 
and  advanced  slowly  towards  my  uncle 
Toby's  sentry-box :  the  disposition  which 
Trim  had  made  in  my  uncle  Toby's  mind, 
was  too  favorable  a  crisis  to  be  let  slip. 

The  attack  was  determined  upon :  it  was 
facilitated  still  more  by  my  uncle  Toby's 
having  ordered  the  corporal  to  wheel  off 
the  pioneer's  shovel,  the  spade,  the  pick- 
axe, the  piquets,  and  other  military  stores 


48 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W  ADMAN. 


which  lay  scattered  upon  the  ground  where 
Dunkirk  stood.  The  corporal  had  marched  ; 
the  field  was  clear. 

Now,  consider,  Sir,  what  nonsense  it  is, 
either  in  fighting,  or  writing,  or  any  thing 
else  (whether  in  rhyme  to  it,  or  not)  which 
a  man  has  occasion  to  do,  to  act  by  plan  : 
for  if  ever  Plan,  independent  of  all  circum- 
stances, deserved  registering  in  letters  of 
gold  (I  mean  in  the  archives  of  Gotham) 
it  was  certainly  the  plan  of  Mrs.  Wad- 
man's  attack  of  my  uncle  Toby  in  his 
sentry-box,  by  plan.  Now,  the  plan  hang- 
ing up  in  it  at  this  juncture,  being  the 
plan  of  Dunkirk,  and  the  tale  of  Dunkirk 
a  tale  of  relaxation,  it  opposed  every 
impression  she  could  make :  and,  besides, 
could  she  have  gone  upon  it,  the  manoeuvre 
of  fingers  and  hands  in  the  attack  of  the 
sentry-box,  was  so  outdone  by  that  of  the 
fair  Beguine's,  in  Trim's  story,  that  just 
then,  that  particular  attack,  however 
successful  before,  became  the  most  heart- 
less attack  that  could  be  made. 

O !  let  woman  alone  for  this.  Mrs. 
Wadman  had  scarce  open'd  the  wicker- 
gate,  when  her  genius  sported  with  the 
change  of  circumstances. 

She  formed  a  new  attack  in  a  moment. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I  AM  half  distracted,  Captain  Shandy, 
said  Mrs.  Wadman,  holding  up  her  cam- 
bric handkerchief  to  her  left  eye,  as  she 
approach'd  the  door  of  my  uncle  Toby's 
sentry-box ;  a  mote,  or  sand,  or  something, 
I  know  not  what,  has  got  into  this  eye  of 
mine;  do  look  into  it:  it  is  not  in  the 
white. 

In  saying  which,  Mrs.  Wadman 
edged  herself  close  in  beside  my  uncle 
Toby,  and  squeezing  herself  down  upon 
the  corner  of  his  bench,  she  gave  him  an 
opportunity  of  doing  it  without  rising  up, 
Do  look  into  it,  said  she, 

Honest  soul !  thou  didst  look  into  it 
with  as  much  innocency  of  heart  as  ever 
child  looked  into  a  raree  show-box  ;  and 
't  were  as  much  a  sin  to  have  hurt  thee. 

If  a  man  will  be  peeping  of  his  own  ac- 
cord into  things  of  that  nature,  I've  noth- 
ing to  say  to  it. 

My  uncle  Toby  never  did  ;  and  I  will 
answer  for  him,  that  he  would  have  sat 
quietly  upon  a  sofa  from  June  to  January  j 


(which  you  know  takes  in  both  the  hot 
and  cold  months)  with  an  eye  as  fine  as 
the  Thracian*  Rhodope's  beside  him, 
without  being  able  to  tell  whether  it  was 
a  black  or  a  blue  one. 

The  difficulty  was,  to  get  my  uncle 
Toby  to  look  at  one  at  all. 

'Tis  surmounted.     And 

I  see  him  yonder,  with  his  pipe  pendu- 
lous in  his  hand,  and  the  ashes  falling 
out  of  it,  looking,  and  looking,  then  rub- 
bing his  eyes,  and  looking  again,  with 
twice  the  good-nature  that  ever  Galileo 
looked  for  a  spot  in  the  sun. 

In  vain  1  for,  by  all  the  powers  which 
animate  the  organ,  Widow  Wadman'sleft 
eye  shines  this  moment  as  lucid  as  her 
right ;  there  is  neither  mote,  nor  sand, 
nor  dust,  nor  chaff,  nor  speck,  nor  particle 
of  opaque  matter  floating  in  it.  There  is 
nothing,  my  dear  paternal  uncle  !  but  one 
lambent  delicious  fire,  furtively  shooting 
out  from  every  part  of  it,  in  all  directions 
into  thine. 

If  thou  lookest,  my  uncle  Toby,  in 
search  of  this  mote  one  moment  longer, 
thou  art  undone. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AN  eye  is,  for  all  the  world,  exactly 
like  a  cannon,  in  this  respect,  That  it  is 
not  so  much  the  eye  or  the  cannon,  in 
themselves,  as  it  is  the  carriage  of  the  eye, 
and  the  carriage  of  the  cannon ;  by 
which  both  the  one  and  the  other  are  en- 
abled to  do  so  much  execution.  I  don't 
think  the  comparison  a  baa  one:  how- 
ever, as  'tis  made  and  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  chapter,  as  much  for  use  as 
ornament,  all  I  desire  in  return,  is,  that 
whenever  I  speak  of  Mrs.  Wadman's  eyes, 
(except  once  in  the  next  period)  that  you 
keep  it  in  your  fancy. 

I  protest,  Madam,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
I  can  see  nothing  whatever  in  your  eye. 

It  is  not  in  the  white,  said  Mrs.  Wad- 
man. My  uncle  Toby  looked  with  might 
and  main  into  the  pupil. 

Now,  of  all  the  eyes  which  ever  were 
created ;  from  your  own,  Madam,  up  to 
those  of  Venus  herself,  which  certainly 


*  Rhodope  Thracia  tarn  iuevitabili  faacino  instructo 
tarn  oxacte  ocnlis  intueng  attraxit,  ut  si  in  illam  q«i« 
incidissot,  lien  non  posset,  quin  eaperetur. — 1  KNOW 

NOT  WHO. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


49 


were  as  venereal  a  pair  of  eyes  as  ever 
stood  in  a  head,  there  never  was  an  eye 
of  them  ail  so  fitted  to  rob  my  uncle  Toby 
of  his  repose,  as  the  very  eye  at  which  he 
was  looking ;  it  was  not,  Madam,  a  roll- 
ing eye,  a  romping,  or  a  wanton  one  ;  nor 
was  it  an  eye  sparkling,  petulant,  or  im- 
perious, of  high  claims  and  terrifying  ex- 
actions, which  would  have  curdled  at 
once  that  milk  of  human  nature,  of  which 
my  uncle  Toby  was  made  up :  but 't  was 
an  eye  full  of  gentle  salutations,  and  soft 
responses,  speaking,  not  like  the  trumpet 
stop  of  some  ill-made  organ,  in  which 
many  an  eye  I  talk  to  holds  coarse  con- 
verse, but  whispering  soft,  like  the  last 
low  accents  of  an  expiring  saint,  "  How 
can  you  live  comfortless,  Captain  Shandy, 
and  aione,  without  a  bosom  to  lean  your 
head  on,  or  trust  your  cares  to  ?'' 

It  was  an  eye— - 

But  I  shall  be  in  love  with  it  myself,  if 
I  say  another  word  about  it. 

It  did  my  uncle  Toby's  business. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERE  is  nothing  shows  the  characters 
of  my  father  and  my  uncle  Toby  in  a  more 
entertaining  light,  than  their  different 
manner  of  deportment  under  the  same 
accident ;  for  I  call  not  love  a  misfortune ; 
from  a  persuasion,  that  a  man's  heart  is 
ever  the  better  for  it.  Great  God  I  what 
must  my  uncle  Toby's  have  been,  when 
'twas  all  benignity  without  it! 

My  father,  as  appears  from  many  of  his 
papers,  was  very  subject  to  this  passion 
before  he  married ;  but,  from  a  little 
subacid  kind  of  drollish  impatience  in  his 
nature,  whenever  it  befell  him,  he  would 
never  submit  to  it  like  a  Christian  ;  but 
would  huff,  and  bounce,  and  kick,  and 
play  the  devil,  and  write  the  bitterest 
Philippics  against  the  eye  that  ever  man 
wrote ;  there  is  one  in  verse  upon  some- 
body's eye  or  other,  that,  for  two  or  three 
nights  together,  had  put  him  by  his  rest ; 
which,  in  his  first  transport  of  resentment 
against  it,  he  begins  thus  : — 

u  A.  devil 't  is,  and  mischief  such  doth  work 
As  never  yet  did  Pagan,  Jew,  or  Turk."* 

In  short,  during  the  whole  paroxysm, 


*c 


'  This  will  be  printed  with  my  father's  Life  of  Socrates, 


my  father  was  all  abuse  and  foul  language 
approaching  rather  towards  malediction  ; 
only  he  did  not  do  it  with  as  much  method 
as  Ernulphus  ;  he  was  too  impetuous ; 
nor  with  Ernulphus's  policy;  for  though 
my  father,  with  the  most  intolerant  spirit, 
would  curse  both  this  and  that,  and  every 
thing  under  Heaven,  which  was  either 
aiding  or  abetting  to  his  love,  yet  he  never 
concluded  his  chapter  of  curses  upon  it, 
without  cursing  himself  in  at  the  bargain, 
as  one  of  the  most  egregious  fools  and  cox- 
combs, he  would  say,  that  ever  was  let 
loose  in  the  world. 

My  uncle  Toby,  on  the  contrary,  took  it 
like  a  lamb,  sat  still,  and  let  the  poison 
work  in  his  veins  without  resistance ;  in 
the  sharpest  exacerbations  of  his  wound 
(like  that  on  his  groin)  he  never  dropt  one 
fretful  or  discontented  word,  he  blamed 
neither  heaven  nor  earth,  nor  thought, 
nor  spoke  an  injurious  thing  of  any  body, 
or  any  part  of  it ;  he  sat  solitary  and  pen- 
sive with  his  pipe,  looking  at  his  lame  leg, 
then  whining  out  a  sentimental  heigh-ho ! 
which,  mixing  with  the  smoke,  incom- 
moded no  one  mortal. 

He  took  it  like  a  lamb,  I  say. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  world  is  ashamed  of  being  virtuous. 
My  uncle  Toby  knew  little  of  the  world ; 
and  therefore,  when  he  felt  he  was  in  love 
with  Widow  Wadman,  he  had  no  con- 
ception that  the  thing  was  any  more  to  be 
made  a  mystery  of,  than  if  Mrs.  Wadman 
had  given  him  a  cut  with  a  gaped  knife 
across  his  finger.  Had  it  been  otherwise 
— yet,  as  he  looked  upon  Trim  as  an 
humble  friend,  and  saw  fresh  reasons 
every  day  of  his  life  to  treat  him  as  such 
— it  would  have  made  no  variation  in  the 
manner  in  which  he  informed  him  of  the 
affair. 

"  I  am  in  love,  corporal  I  "  quoth  my 
uncle  Toby. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

IN  love !  said  the  corporal,  your  Honor 
was  very  well  the  day  before  yesterday, 
when  I  was  telling  your  Honor  the  story 
of  the  King  of  Bohemia.  Bohemia!  said 
my  uncle  Toby  ....  musing  a  long  time 
....  What  became  of  that  story,  Trim  ? 


VOL.   II. — W.  H. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W  ADM  AN. 


We  lost  it,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
somehow  betwixt  us;  but  your  Honor 
was  as  free  from  love  then,  as  I  am. 
'T  was  just  whilst  thou  went'st  off  with  the 
wheelbarrow,  with  Mrs.  Wadman,  quoth 
my  uncle  Toby.  She  has  left  a  ball  nere, 
added  my  uncle  Toby,  pointing  to  his 
breast. 

She  can  no  more,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
stand  a  siege,  than  she  can  fly,  cried  the 
corporal. 

But  as  we  are  neighbors,  Trim,  the  best 
way,  I  think,  is  to  let  her  know  it  civilly 
first,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby. 

Now,  if  I  might  presume,  said  the  cor- 
poral, to  differ  from  your  Honor. 

Why  else  do  I  talk  to  thee,  Trim  ?  said 
my  uncle  Toby,  mildly. 

Then  I  would  begin,  an'  please  your 
Honor,  with  making  a  good  thundering 
attack  upon  her,  in  return,  and  telling 
her  civilly  afterwards;  for  if  she  knows 
anything  of  your  Honor's  being  in  love, 
beforehand,  L — d  help  her !  She  knows 
no  more  at  present  of  it,  Trim,  said  my 
uncle  Toby,  than  the  child  unborn. 

Precious  souls ! 

Mrs.  Wadman  had  told  it,  with  all  its 
circumstances,  to  Mrs.  Bridget,  twenty- 
four  hours  before ;  and  was,  at  that  very 
moment,  sitting  in  council  with  her, 
touching  some  slight  misgivings  with  re- 
gard to  the  issue  of  the  affair,  which  the 
Devil,  who  never  lies  dead  in  a  ditch,  had 
put  into  her  head,  before  he  would  allow 
her  half  time  to  get  quietly  through  her 
Te  Deum. 

We'll  know  the  long  and  broad  of  it  in 
ten  days,  answered  Mrs.  Bridget;  for 
whilst  the  captain  is  paying  his  addresses 
to  you,  I'm  confident  Mr.  Trim  will  be  for 
making  love  to  me  ;  and  I'll  let  him,  as 
much  as  he  will,  added  Bridget,  to  get  it 
all  out  of  him. 

The  measures  were  taken  at  once  ;  and 
my  uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  went  on 
with  theirs. 

Now,  quoth  the  corporal,  setting  his 
left  hand  a  kimbo,  and  giving  such  a 
nourish  with  his  right,  as  just  promised 
success,  and  no  more,  if  your  Honor  will 
give  me  leave  to  lay  down  the  plan  of  this 
attack. 

Thou  wilt  please  me  by  it,  Trim,  8aid 
my  uncle  Toby,  exceedingly,  and  as  I 
foresee  thou  must  act  in  it  as  my  aid-de- 
camp, here's  a  crown,  corporal,  to  begin 
with,  to  steep  thy  commission. 


Then,  an'  please  your  Honor,  said  the 
corporal  (making  a  bow  first  for  his  com- 
mission), we  will  begin  by  getting  your 
Honor's  laced  clothes  out  of  the  great 
campaign-trunk,  to  be  well  aired,  and  have 
the  blue  and  gold  taken  up  at  the  sleeves  ; 
and  I'll  put  your  white  ramillie-wig  fresh 
into  pipes  ;  and  send  for  a  tailor  to  have 
your  Honor's  thin  scarlet  breeches  turned. 

I  had  better  take  the  red  plush  ones, 
quoth  my  uncle  Toby.  They  will  be  too 
clumsy,  said  the  corporal. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THOU  wilt  get  a  brush  and  a  little  chalk 
to  my  sword.  'T  will  be  only  in  your 
Honor's  way,  replied  Trim. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Bur  your  Honor's  two  razors  shall  be 
new  set,  and  I  will  get  my  Montero-cap 
furbished  up,  and  put  on  poor  Lieutenant 
Le  Fevre's  regimental  coat,  which  your 
Honor  gave  me  to  wear  for  his  sake  ;  and 
as  soon  as  your  Honor  is  clean  shaved, 
and  has  got  your  clean  shirt  on,  with  your 
blue  and  gold  or  your  fine  scarlet,  some- 
times one  and  sometimes  t'other,  and 
everything  is  ready  for  the  attack,  we'll 
march  up  Doldly,  as  if 't  was  to  the  face  of 
a  bastion ;  and  whilst  your  Honor  engages 
Mrs.  Wadman  in  the  parlor  to  the  rignt, 
I'll  attack  Mrs.  Bridget  in  the  kitchen  to 
the  left;  and  having  seized  that  pass,  I'll 
answer  for  it,  said  the  corporal,  snapping 
his  fingers  over  his  head,  that  the  day  is 
your  own. 

I  wish  I  may  but  manage  it  right,  said 
my  uncle  Toby ;  but  I  declare,  corporal, 
I  had  rather  march  up  to  the  very  edge 
of  a  trench. 

A  woman  is  quite  a  different  thing,  said 
the  corporal. 

I  suppose  so,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


IF  anything  in  this  world,  which  my 
father  said,  could  have  provoked  my  uncle 
Toby  during  the  time  he  was  in  love,  it 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


was  the  perverse  use  my  father  was  always 
making  of  an  exoression  of  Hilarion  the 
hermit ;  who,  in  speaking  of  his  absti- 
nence, his  watchings,  flagellations,  and 
other  instrumental  parts  of  his  religion, 
would  say,  though  with  more  facetiousness 
than  became  a  hermit,  "  That  they  were 
the  means  he  used  to  make  his  ass  (mean- 
ing his  body)  leave  off  kicking." 

It  pleased  my  father  well ;  it  was  not 
only  a  laconic  way  of  expressing,  but  of 
libelling,  at  the  same  time,  the  desires 
and  appetites  of  part  of  us;  so  that  for 
many  years  of  my  father's  life,  't  was  his 
constant  mode  of  expression;  he  never 
used  the  word  passions  once,  but  ass  always, 
instead  of  them ;  so  that  he  might  be  said 
truly  to  have  been  upon  the  bones,  or  the 
back  of  his  own  ass,  or  else  of  some  other 
man's,  during  all  that  time. 

I  must  here  observe  to  you  the  difference 
betwixt 

My  father's  Ass  and 
My  HOBBY-HORSE,  in  order  to 
keep  characters  as  separate  as  may   be, 
in  our  fancies  as  we  go  along. 

For  my  Hobby-Horse,  if  you  recollect 
a  little,  is  no  way  a  vicious  beast ;  he  has 
scarce  one  hair  or  lineament  of  the  ass 
about  him.  'T  is  the  sporting  little  filly- 
folly  which  carries  you  out  for  the  present 
hour — a  maggot,  a  butterfly,  a  picture,  a 
fiddle-stick,  an  uncle  Toby's  siege,  or  an 
anything  which  a  man  makes  a  shift  to  get 
astride  on,  to  canter  it  away  from  the 
cares  and  solicitudes  of  life.  7T  is  as  use- 
ful a  beast  as  is  in  the  whole  creation ; 
nor  do  I  really  see  how  the  world  could 
do  without  it. 

But  for  my  father's  ass.  Oh !  mount 
him — mount  him — mount  him  (that's 
three  times,  is  it  not?) — mount  him  not: 
'  tis  a  beast  concupiscent ;  and  foul  befall 
the  man  who  does  not  hinder  him  from 
kicking. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

EVERY  body,  said  my  mother,  says  you 
are  in  love,  brother  Toby ;  and  we  hope  it 
is  true. 

I  am  as  much  in  love,  sister,  I  believe, 
replied  my  uncle  Toby,  as  any  man  usually 
is.  Humph  !  said  my  father.  And  when 
did  you  know  it  ?  quoth  my  mother. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

As  the  ancients  agree,  brother  Toby, 
said  my  father,  that  there  are  two  different 
and  distinct  kinds  of  love,  according  to  the 
different  parts  which  are  affected  by  it, 
the  brain  or  liver,  I  think  when  a  man  is 
in  love,  it  behooves  him  a  little  to  consider 
which  of  the  two  he  has  fallen  into. 

What  signifies  it,  brother  Shandy,  re- 
plied my  uncle  Toby,  which  of  the  two  it 
is,  provided  it  will  but  make  a  man  marry, 
and  love  his  wife  and  children  ? 

Children  !  cried  my  father,  rising  out  of 
his  chair,  and  looking  full  in  my  mother's 
face,  as  he  forced  his  way  betwixt  hers 
and  Doctor  Slop's.  Children!  cried  my 
father,  repeating  my  uncle  Toby's  words 
as  he  walked  to  and  fro. 

Not,  my  dear  brother  Toby,  cried  my 
father,  recovering  himself  all  at  once,  and 
coming  close  up  to  the  back  of  my  uncle 
Toby's  chair,  not  that  I  should  be  sorry 
hadst  thou  a  score:  on  the  contrary,  I 
should  rejoice,  and  be  as  kind,  Toby,  to 
every  one  of  them  as  a  father. 

My  uncle  Toby  stole  his  hand,  unper- 
ceived,  behind  his  chair,  to  give  my 
father's  a  squeeze. 

Nay,  moreover,  continued  he,  keeping 
hold  of  my  uncle  Toby's  hand,  so  much 
dost  thou  possess,  my  dear  Toby,  of  the 
milk  of  human  nature,  and  so  little  of  its 
asperities,  't  is  piteous  the  world  is  not 
peopled  by  creatures  which  resemble  thee ! 

There  is,  at  least,  said  Yorick,  a  -great 
deal  of  reason  and  plain  sense  in  Captain 
Shandy's  opinion  of  love  ;  and  'tis  amongst 
the  ill-spent  hours  of  my  life,  which  I 
have  to  answer  for,  that  I  have  read  so 
many  flourishing  poets  and  rhetoricians 
in  my  time  from  whom  I  never  could  ex- 
tract so  much. 

I  wish,  Yorick,  said  my  father,  you  had 
read  Plato :  for  there  you  would  have  learnt 
that  there  are  two  loves.  I  know  there 
are  two  religions,  replied  Yorick,  amongst 
the  ancients  ;  one  for  the  vulgar,  and  an- 
other for  the  learned  :  but  I  think  one  love 
might  have  served  both  of  them  very  well. 

It  could  not,  replied  my  father,  and  for 
the  same  reasons ;  for,  of  these  loves, 
according  to  Ficinus's  comment  upon 
Velasius,  the  one  is  rational, 

The  other  is  natural ; 
the  first  ancient,  without  mother,  where 
Venus  had   nothing  to  do  ;  the  second 
begotten  of  Jupiter  and  Dione. 


62          THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


Pray,  brother,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby, 
what  has  a  man  who  believes  in  God  to 
do  with  this  ?  My  father  could  not  stop 
to  answer,  for  fear  of  breaking  the  thread 
of  his  discourse. 

This  latter,  continued  he,  partakes 
wholly  of  the  nature  of  Venus. 

The  first,  which  is  the  golden  chain  let 
down  from  heaven,  excites  to  love  heroic, 
which  comprehends  in  it,  and  excites  to, 
the  desire  of  philosophy  and  truth ;  the 
second  excites  to  desire  simply. 

I  think  the  procreation  of  children  as 
beneficial  to  the  world,  said  Yorick,  as  the 
finding  out  the  longitude. 

To  be  sure,  said  my  mother,  love  keeps 
peace  in  the  world. 

In  the  house,  my  dear,  I  own. 

It  replenishes  the  earth,  said  my  mo- 
ther. 

But  it  keeps  heaven  empty,  my  dear, 
replied  my  father. 

^Tis  Virginity,  cried  Slop,  triumphant- 
ly, which  fills  Paradise. 

Well  pushed,nun  I  quoth  my  father. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MY  father  had  such  a  skirmishing,  cut- 
ting kind  of  a  slashing  way  with  him  in 
his  disputations,  thrusting  and  ripping, 
and  giving  every  one  a  stroke  to  remem- 
ber him  by,  in  his  turn,  that  if  there  were 
twenty  people  in  company,  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  he  was  sure  to  have  every 
one  of  them  against  him. 

What  did  not  a  little  contribute  to  leave 
him  thus  without  an  ally,  was,  that  if 
there  was  any  one  post  more  untenable 
than  the  rest,  he  would  be  sure  to  throw 
himself  into  it ;  and  to  do  him  justice, 
when  he  was  once  there,  he  would  defend 
it  so  gallantly,  that 't  would  have  been  a 
concern,  either  to  a  brave  man,  or  a  good- 
natured  one,  to  have  seen  him  driven 
out. 

Yorick,  for  this  reason,  though  he 
would  often  attack,  yet  could  never  bear 
to  do  it  with  all  his  force. 

Doctor  Slop's  Virginity,  in  the  close  of 
the  last  chapter,  had  got  him  for  once  on 
the  right  side  of  the  rampart ;  and  he  was 
beginning  to  blow  up  all  the  convents  in 
Christendom  about  Slop's  ears,  when 
Corporal  Trim  came  into  the  parlor  to 
inform  my  uncle  Toby,  that  his  thin 


scarlet  breeches,  in  which  the  attack  was 
to  be  made  upon  Mrs.  Wadman,  would 
not  do ;  for  that  the  tailor,  in  ripping 
them  up,  in  order  to  turn  them,  had 
found  that  they  had  been  turned  before. 
Then  turn  them  again,  brother,  said  my 
father,  rapidly,  for  there  will  be  many  a 
turning  of  them  yet  before  all's  done  in 
the  affair.  They  are  as  rotten  as  dirt, 
said  the  corporal.  Then  by  all  means, 
said  my  father,  bespeak  a  new  pair,  bro- 
ther; for  though  I  know,  continued  my 
father,  turning  himself  to  the  company, 
that  Widow  Wadman  has  been  deeply  in 
love  with  my  brother  Toby  for  many 
years,  and  has  used  every  art  and  circum- 
vention of  woman  to  outwit  him  into  the 
same  passion,  yet  now  that  she  has  caught 
him,  her  fever  will  be  past  its  height. 

She  has  gained  her  point. 

In  this  case,  continued  my  father,  which 
Plato,  I  am  persuaded,  never  thought  of, 
Love,  you  see,  is  not  so  much  a  sentiment 
as  a  situation,  into  which  a  man  enters,  as 
my  brother  Toby  would  do  into  a  corps,  no 
matter  whether  he  loves  the  service  or  no ; 
being  once  in  it,  he  acts  as  if  he  did,  and 
takes  every  step  to  show  himself  a  man  of 
prowess. 

The  hypothesis,  like  the  rest  of  my 
father's,  was  plausible  enough,  and  my 
uncle  Toby  had  but  a  single  word  to  ob- 
ject to  it,  in  which  Trim  stood  ready  to 
second  him ;  but  my  father  had  not  drawn 
his  conclusion. 

For  this  reason,  continued  my  father 
(stating  the  case  over  again),  notwith- 
standing all  the  world  knows  that  Mrs. 
Wadman  affects  my  brother  Toby ;  and 
my  brother  Toby  contrariwise  affects  Mrs. 
Wadman,  and  no  obstacle  in  nature  to 
forbid  the  music  striking  up  this  very 
night,  yet  will  I  answer  for  it,  that  this 
self-same  tune  will  not  be  played  this 
twelvemonth. 

We  have  taken  our  measures  badly, 
quoth  my  uncle  Toby,  looking  up  interro* 
gatively  in  Trim's  face. 

I  would  lay  my  Montero-cap,  said  Trim. 

Now  Trim's  Montero-cap,  as  I  once  told 
you,  was  his  constant  wager;  and  having 
furbished  it  up  that  very  night,  in  order 
to  go  upon  the  attack,  it  made  the  odds 
IOOK  more  considerable.  I  would  lay,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  my  Montero  cap  to  a 
shilling,  was  it  proper,  continued  Trim 
(making  a  bow),  to  offer  a  wager  before 
your  Honors. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


There  is  nothing  improper  in  it,  said  my 
father,  't  is  a  mode  of  expression :  for  in 
saying  thou  would'st  lay  thy  Montero-cap 
to  a  shilling,  all  thou  meanest  is  this,  that 
thou  believest. 

Now,  what  dost  thou  believe? 

That  Widow  Wadman,  an'  please  your 
Worship,  cannot  hold  it  out  ten  days. 

And  whence,  cried  Slop,  jeeringly,  hast 
thou  all  this  knowledge  of  woman,  friend? 

By  falling  in  love  with  a  popish  clergy- 
woman,  said  Trim. 

'T  was  a  Beguine,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 

Doctor  Slop  was  too  much  in  wrath  to 
listen  to  the  distinction ;  and  my  father 
taking  that  very  crisis  to  fall  in  helter- 
skelter  upon  the  whole  order  of  nuns  and 
Beguines,  Slop  could  not  stand  it:  and 
my  uncle  Toby  having  some  measures  to 
take  about  his  breeches,  and  Yorick  about 
his  fourth  general  division,  in  order  for 
their  several  attacks  next  day,  the  com- 
pany broke  up ;  and  my  father  being  left 
alone,  and  having  half  an  hour  upon  his 
hands  betwixt  that  and  bed-time,  he 
called  for  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  wrote 
my  uncle  Toby  the  following  letter  of  in- 
structions : 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  TOBY  : 

What  I  am  going  to  say  to  thee,  is  upon 
the  nature  of  women,  and  of  love-making 
to  them ;  and  perhaps  it  is  as  well  for 
thee,  though  not  so  well  for  me,  that  thou 
hast  occasion  for  a  letter  of  instructions 
upon  that  head,  and  that  I  am  able  to 
write  it  to  thee. 

Had  it  been  the  good  pleasure  of  Him 
who  disposes  of  our  lots,  and  thou  no 
sufferer  by  the  knowledge,  I  had  been 
well  content  that  thou  should'st  have 
dipped  the  pen  this  moment  into  the  ink, 
instead  of  myself;  but  that  not  being  the 
case,  Mrs.  Shandy  being  now  close  beside 
me,  preparing  for  bed,  I  have  thrown 
together,  without  order,  and  just  as  they 
have  come  into  my  mind,  such  hints  and 
documents  as  I  deem  may  be  of  use  to 
thee,  intending,  in  this,  to  give  thee  a 
token  of  my  love  ;  not  doubting,  my  dear 
Toby,  of  the  manner  it  will  be  accepted. 

In  the  first  place,  with  regard  to  all 
which  concerns  religion  in  the  affair, 
though  I  perceive,  from  a  glow  in  my 
cheek,  that  I  blush  as  I  begin  to  speak  to 
thee  upon  the  subject,  as  well  knowing, 
notwithstanding  thy  unaffected  secrecy, 
how  few  of  its  offices  thou  neglectest,  yet 


I  would  remind  thee  of  one  (during  the 
continuance  of  thy  courtship)  in  a  par- 
ticular manner,  which  I  would  not  have 
omitted ;  and  that  is,  never  to  go  forth 
upon  the  enterprise,  whether  it  be  in  the 
morning  or  the  afternoon,  without  first 
recommending  thyself  to  the  protection  of 
Almighty  God,  that  he  may  defend  thee 
from  the  evil  one. 

Shave  the  whole  top  of  thy  crown  clean 
once,  at  least,  every  four  or  five  days,  but 
oftener  if  convenient ;  lest,  in  taking  off 
thy  wig  before  her,  through  absence  of 
mind,  she  should  be  able  to  discover  how 
much  has  been  cut  away  by  Time :  how 
much  by  Trim. 

'T  were  better  to  keep  ideas  of  baldness 
out  of  her  fancy. 

Always  carry  it  in  thy  mind,  and  act 
upon  it  as  a  sure  maxim,  Toby, 

"  That  women  are  timid ;"  and  't  is  well 
they  are,  else  there  would  be  no  dealing 
with  them. 

Let  not  thy  breeches  be  too  tight,  or 
hang  too  loose  about  thy  thighs,  like  tht 
trunk-hose  of  our  ancestors : 

A  just  medium  prevents  all  conclusions. 

Whatever  thou  hast  to  say,  be  it  more 
or  less,  forget  not  to  utter  it  in  a  low  soft 
tone  of  voice ;  silence,  and  whatever  ap- 
proaches it,  weaves  dreams  of  midnight 
secrecy  into  the  brain :  for  this  cause  if 
thou  canst  help  it,  never  throw  down  the 
tongs  and  poker. 

Avoid  all  kinds  of  pleasantry  and  face- 
tiousness  in  thy  discourse  with  her,  and 
do  whatever  lies  in  thy  power,  at  the  same 
time,  to  keep  from  her  all  books  and 
writings  which  tend  thereto:  there  are 
some  devotional  tracts,  which  if  thou  canst 
entice  her  to  read  over,  it  will  be  well ; 
but  suffer  her  not  to  look  into  Rabelais, 
or  Scarron,  or  Don  Quixote : 

They  are  all  books  which  excite  laugh- 
ter ;  and  thou  knowest,  dear  Toby,  that 
there  is  no  passion  so  serious  as  love. 

Stick  a  pin  in  the  bosom  of  thy  shirt, 
before  thou  enterest  the  parlor. 

And  if  thou  art  permitted  to  sit  upon 
the  same  sofa  with  her,  and  she  gives  thee 
occasion  to  lay  thy  hand  upon  hers,  be- 
ware of  taking  it :  thou  canst  not  lay  thy 
hand  on  hers,  out  she  will  feel  the  temper 
of  thine.  Leave  that  and  as  many  other 
things  as  thou  canst,  quite  undetermined; 
by  so  doing,  thou  wilt  have  her  curiosity 
on  thy  side  ;  and  if  she  is  not  conquered 
by  that,  and  thy  ass  continues  still  kick- 


ing,  which  there  is  great  reason  to  suppose, 
thou  must  begin  with  first  losing  a  few 
ounces  of  blood  below  the  ears,  according 
to  the  practice  of  the  ancient  Scythians, 
wh'o  cured  the  most  intemperate  fits  of 
the  appetite  by  that  means. 

Avicenna,  after  this,  is  for  having  the 
neck  anointed  with  the  syrup  of  helle- 
bore, using  proper  evacuations  and 
purges ;  and  I  believe  rightly.  But  thou 
must  eat  little  or  no  goat's  flesh,  nor  red 
deer ;  nor  even  foal's  flesh  by  any  means ; 
and  carefully  abstain,  that  is,  as  much  as 
thou  canst,  from  peacocks,  cranes,  coots, 
didappers,  and  water-hens. 

As  for  thy  drink,  I  need  not  tell  thee, 
it  must  be  the  infusion  of  Verbain  and 
the  herb  Hanea,  of  which  ^Elian  relates 
such  effects;  but  if  thy  stomach  palls 
with  it,  discontinue  it  from  time  to  time, 
taking  cucumbers,  melons,  purslain, 
water-lilies,  woodbine,  and  lettuce  in  the 
stead  of  them. 

There  is  nothing  further  for  thee  which 
occurs  to  me  at  present. 

Unless  the  breaking  out  of  a  fresh  war. 
So  wishing  everything,  dear  Toby,  for  the 
best, 

I  rest  thy  affectionate  brother, 

WALTER  SHANDY. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

WHILST  my  father  was  writing  this  let- 
ter of  instructions,  my  Uncle  Toby  and 
the  corporal  were  busy  in  preparing  every 
thing  for  the  attack.  As  the  turning  of 
the  thin  scarlet  breeches  was  laid  aside 
(at  least  for  the  present)  there  is  nothing 
which  should  put  it  off  beyond  the  next 
morning  ;  so,  accordingly  it  was  resolved 
upon  for  eleven  o'clock. 

Come,  my  dear,  said  my  father  to  my 
mother,  't  will  be  but  like  a  brother  and 
sister,  if  you  and  I  take  a  walk  down  to 
my  brother  Toby's  to  countenance  him  in 
this  attack  of  his. 

My  uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  had 
both  been  accoutred  some  time,  when 
my  father  and  mother  entered  and,  the 
clock  striking  eleven,  were  that  moment  in 
motion  to  sally  forth  ;  but  the  account  of 
this  is  worth  more  than  to  be  wove 
into  the  fag  end  of  a  chapter.  My  father 
had  no  time  but  to  put  the  letter  of  in- 
structions into  my  uncle  Toby's  coat 


pocket,  and  join  with  my  mother  in  wish- 
ing his  attack  prosperous. 

I  could  like,  said  my  mother,  to  look 
through  the  key-hole,  out  of  curiosity. 
Call  it  by  its  right  name,  my  dear,  quoth 
my  father, 

And  look  through  the  key -hole  as  long 
as  you  will. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

I  CALL  all  the  powers  of  time  and 
chance,  which  severally  check  us  in  our 
careers  in  this  world,  to  bear  me  witness, 
that  I  could  never  yet  get  fairly  to  my 
uncle  Toby's  amours,  till  this  very 
moment,  that  my  mother's  curiosity,  as 
she  stated  the  affair,  or  a  different  impulse 
in  her,  as  my  father  would  have  it,  wished 
her  to  take  a  peep  at  them  through  the 
key-hole. 

"  Call  it,  my  dear,  by  its  right  name," 
quoth  my  father,  "  and  look  through  the 
key-hole  as  long  as  you  will." 

Nothing  but  the  fermentation  of  that 
little  subacid  humor,  which  I  have  often 
spoken  of,  in  my  father's  habit,  could 
have  vented  such  an  insinuation  ;  he  was, 
however,  frank  and  generous  in  his  nature, 
and  at  all  times  open  to  conviction ;  so 
that  he  had  scarce  got  to  the  last  word  of 
this  ungracious  retort,  when  his  con- 
science smote  him. 

My  mother  was  then  conjugally  swinging 
with  her  left  arm  twisted  under  his  right, 
in  such  wise,  that  the  inside  of  her  hand 
rested  on  the  back  of  his ;  she  raised  her 
fingers,  and  let  them  fall,  it  could  scarce 
be  called  a  tap  ;  or,  if  it  was  a  tap,  't  would 
have  puzzled  a  casuist  to  say,  whether 
't  was  a  tap  of  remonstrance  or  a  tap  of 
confession ;  my  father,  who  was  all  sensi- 
bilities from  head  to  foot,  classed  it  right ; 
Conscience  redoubled  her  blow,  he  turned 
his  face  suddenly  the  other  way,  and  my 
mother,  supposing  his  body  was  about  to 
turn  with  it,  in  order  to  move  homewards, 
by  a  cross  movement  of  her  right  leg, 
keeping  her  left  as  its  centre,  brought 
herself  so  far  in  front,  that,  as  he 
turned  his  head,  he  met  her  eye  :  Confu- 
sion again  !  he  saw  a  thousand  reasons  to 
wipe  out  the  reproach,  and  as  many  to 
reproach  himself:  a  thin,  blue,  chill, 
pellucid  crystal,  with  all  its  humors  so  at 
rest,  the  least  mote  or  speck  of  desire 
might  have  been  seen  at  the  bottom  of  it, 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


55 


had  it  existed  ;  it  did  not ;  and  how  I  hap- 
pened to  be  so  lewd  myself,  particularly 
a  little  before  the  vernal  and  autumnal 
equinoxes,  Heaven  above  knows;  my 
mother,  Madam,  was  so  at  no  time,  either 
by  nature,  by  institution,  or  example. 

A  temperate  current  of  blood  ran  or- 
derly through  her  veins  in  all  months  of 
the  year,  and  in  all  critical  moments  both 
of  the  day  and  night  alike ;  nor  did  she 
superinduce  the  least  heat  into  her  humors 
from  the  manual  effervescences  of  de- 
votional tracts,  which,  having  little  or  no 
meaning  in  them,  nature  is  oftentimes 
obliged  to  find  one;  and,  as  for  my  father's 
example !  't  v/as  so  far  from  being  either 
aiding  or  abetting  thereunto,  that  't  was 
the  whole  business  of  his  life  to  keep  all 
fancies  of  that  kind  out  of  her  head; 
Nature  had  done  her  part  to  have  spared 
him  this  trouble ;  and,  what  was  not  a 
little  inconsistent,  my  father  knew  it. 
And  here  am  I  sitting,  this  12th  day  of 
August,  1766,  in  a  purple  jerkin  and 
yellow  pair  of  slippers,  without  wig  or  cap 
on,  a  most  tragi-comical  completion  of  his 
prediction  "That  I  should  neither  think 
nor  act  like  any  other  man's  child,  upon 
that  very  account.'' 

The  mistake  of  my  father  was,  in  at- 
tacking my  mother's  motive  instead  of  the 
act  itself ;  for,  certainly,  key-holes  were 
made  for  other  purposes  ;  and,  consider- 
ing the  act  as  an  act  which  interfered 
with  a  true  proposition,  and  denied  a  key- 
hole to  be  what  it  was,  it  became  a  vio- 
lation of  nature ;  and  was,  so  far,  you  see, 
criminal. 

It  is  for  this  reason,  an'  please  your  Re- 
verences, that  key-holes  are  the  occasion 
of  more  sin  and  wickedness  than  all  the 
other  holes  in  this  world  put  together : 

Which  leads  me  to  my  uncle  Toby's 
amours. 


CHAPTEB    XXXVII. 

THOUGH  the  corporal  had  been  as  good 
as  his  word  in  putting  my  uncle  Toby's 
great  ramillie-wig  into  pipes,  yet  the  time 
was  too  short  to  produce  any  great  effects 
from  it :  it  had  lain  many  years  squeezed 
up  in  the  corner  of  his  old  campaign- 
trunk  ;  and  as  bad  form?  are  not  so  easy 
to  be  got  the  better  of,  and  the  use  of 
candle-ends  not  so  well  understood,  it  was 
not  so  pliable  a  business,  as  one  would 


have  wished.  The  corporal,  with  cheery 
eye  and  both  arms  extended,  had  fallen 
back  perpendicular  from  it  a  score  of 
times,  to  inspire  it,  if  possible,  with  a 
better  air:  had  Spleen  given  a  look  at  it, 
'twould  have  cost  her  ladyship  a  smile;  it 
curled  everywhere  but  where  the  corporal 
would  have  it;  and  where  a  buckle  or 
two,  in  his  opinion,  would  have  done  it 
honor,  he  could  as  soon  have  raised  the 
dead. 

Such  it  was,  or  rather,  such  would  it 
have  seemed  upon  any  other  brow;  but 
the  sweet  look  of  goodness  which  sat 
upon  my  uncle  Toby's  assimilated  every 
thing  around  it  so  sovereignly  to  itself, 
and  Nature  had,  moreover,  wrote  Gentle- 
man with  so  fair  a  hand  in  every  line  of 
his  countenance,  that  even  his  tarnished 
gold-laced  hat  and  huge  cockade  of  flimsy 
taffety  became  him ;  and,  though  not  worth 
a  button  in  themselves,  yet  the  moment 
my  uncle  Toby  put  them  on,  they  became 
serious  objects,  and,  altogether,  seemed  to 
have  been  picked  up  by  the  hand  of  Sci- 
ence to  set  him  off  to  advantage. 

Nothing  in  this  world  could  have  co- 
operated more  powerfully  towards  this, 
than  my  uncle  Toby's  blue  and  gold,  had 
not  quantity,  in  some  measure,  been  neces- 
sary to  grace.  In  a  period  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years  since  they  had  been  made, 
by  a  total  inactivity  in  my  uncle  Toby's 
life  (for  he  seldom  went  farther  than  the 
bowling-green),  his  blue  and  gold  had 
become  so  miserably  too  strait  for  him, 
that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  the 
corporal  was  able  to  get  him  into  them ; 
the  taking  them  up  at  the  sleeves  was  of 
no  advantage:  they  were  laced,  however, 
down  the  back,  and  at  the  seams  of  the 
sides,  &c.,  in  the  mode  of  King  William's 
reign ;  and  to  shorten  all  description, 
they  shone  so  bright  against  the  sun  that 
morning,  and  had  so  metallic  and  doughty 
an  air  with  them,  that,  had  my  uncle 
Toby  thought  of  attacking  in  armor,  noth- 
ing could  have  so  well  imposed  upon  his 
imagination. 

As  for, the  thin  scarlet  breeches,  they 
had  been  unripped  by  the  tailor  between 
the  legs,  and  left  at  sixes  and  sevens. 

Yes,  Madam;  but  let  us  govern  pur 
fancies.  It  is  enough  they  were  held  im- 
practicable the  night  before ;  and,  as  there 
was  no  alternative  in  my  uncle  Toby's 
wardrobe,  he  sallied  forth  in  the  red  plush. 

The  corporal  had  arrayed  himself  in 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


56 

poor  Le  Fevre's  regimental  coat;  and 
with  his  hair  tucked  up  under  his  Mon- 
tero-cap,  which  he  had  furbished  up  for 
the  occasion,  marched  three  paces  distant 
from  his  master:  a  whifl'of  military  pride 
had  pufled  out  his  shirt  at  the  wrist;  and 
upon  that,  in  a  black  leather  thong  clipped 
into  a  tassel  beyond  the  knot,  hung  the 
corporal's  stick.  My  uncle  Toby  carried 
his  cane  like  a  pipe. 

It  looks  well,  at  least,  quoth  my  father 
to  himself. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

MY  uncle  Toby  turned  his  head  more 
than  once  behind  him,  to  see  how  he  was 
supported  by  the  corporal ;  and  the  cor- 
poral, as  oft  as  he  did  it,  gave  a  slight 
flourish  with  his  stick,  but  not  vaporingly ; 
and  with  the  sweetest  accent  of  most  re- 
spectful encouragement,  bid  his  Honor 

never  fear." 

Now  my  uncle  Toby  did  fear,  and 
grievously  too;  he  knew  not  (as  my 
father  had  reproached  him)  so  much  as 
the  right  end  of  a  woman  from  the  wrong, 
and  therefore,  was  never,  altogether  at  his 
ease  near  any  one  of  them,  unless  in  sor- 
row or  distress ;  then  infinite  was  his  pity ; 
nor  would  the  most  courteous  knight  of 
romance  have  gone  further,  at  least  upon 
one  leg,  to  have  wiped  away  a  tear  from 
a  woman's  eye ;  and  yet,  excepting  once 
that  he  was  beguiled  into  it  by  Mrs.Wad- 
man,  he  had  never  looked  steadfastly  into 
one ;  and  would  often  tell  my  father,  in 
the  simplicity  of  his  heart,  that  it  was  al- 
most (if  not  about)  as  bad  as  talking 
bawdy.  And  suppose  it  is?  my  father 
would  say. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

SHE  cannot,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby, 
halting,  when  they  had  marched  up  to 
within  twenty  paces  of  Mrs.  Wadman's 
door,  she  cannot,  corporal,  take  it  amiss. 

She  will  take  it,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
said  the  corporal,  just  as  the  Jew's  widow 
at  Lisbon  took  it  of  my  brother  Tom. 

And  how  was  that?  quoth  my  uncle 
Toby,  facing  quite  about  to  the  corporal. 

Your  Honor,  replied  the  corporal, 
knows  of  Tom's  misfortunes  ;  but  this  af- 
fair has  nothing  to  do  with  them  any  fur- 


ther than  this.  That  if  Tom  had  not 
married  the  widow,  or  had  it  pleased 
God,  after  their  marriage,  that  they  had 
but  put  pork  into  their  sausages,  the  hon- 
est soul  had  never  been  taken  out  of  his 
warm  bed,  and  dragged  to  the  Inquisition  ; 
't  is  a  cursed  place,  added  the  corporal, 
shaking  his  head  ;  when  once  a  poor 
creature  is  in,  he  is  in,  an'  please  your 
Honor,  for  ever. 

'T  is  very  true,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
looking  gravely  at  Mrs.  Wadman's  house 
as  he  spoke. 

Nothing,  continued  the  corporal,  can 
be  so  sad  as  confinement  for  life,  or  so 
sweet,  an'  please  your  Honor,  as  liberty. 

Nothing,  Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
musing. 

Whilst  a  man  is  free,  cried  the  corpo- 
ral, giving  a  flourish  with  his  stick. 

A  thousand  of  my  father's  most  subtle 
syllogisms  could  not  have  said  more  for 
celibacy. 

My  uncle  Toby  looked  earnestly  to- 
wards his  cottage  and  his  bowling-green. 

The  corporal  had  unwarily  conjured  up 
the  spirit  of  calculation  with  his  wand; 
and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  conjure 
him  down  again  with  his  story;  and  in 
this  form  of  exorcism,  most  unecclesiasti- 
cally  did  the  corporal  do  it. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

As  Tom's  place,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
was  easy,  and  the  weather  warm,  it  put 
him  upon  thinking  seriously  of  settling 
himself  in  the  world,  and  as  it  fell  out 
about  that  time,  that  a  Jew,  who  kept  a 
sausage-shop  in  the  same  street,  had  the 
ill-luck  to  die  of  a  strangury,  and  leave 
his  widow  in  possession  of  a  rousing  trade, 
Tom  thought  (as  every  body  in  Lisbon 
was  doing  the  best  he  could  devise  for 
himself)  there  could  be  no  harm  in  offer- 
ing his  service  to  carry  it  on  ;  so  without 
any  introduction  to  the  widow,  except 
that  of  buying  a  pound  of  sausages  at  her 
shop,  Tom  set  out,  counting  the  matter 
thus  within  himself  as  he  walked  along , 
That,  let  the  worst  come  of  it  that  could, 
he  should,  at  least,  get  a  pound  of  sau- 
sages for  their  worth  ;  but,  if  things  went 
well,  he  should  be  set  up  ;  inasmuch  as 
he  should  get  not  only  a  pound  of  sau- 
sages, but  a  wife  and  a  sausage-shop,  an* 
please  your  Honor,  into  the  bargain. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W ADMAN. 


Every  servant  in  the  family,  from  high 
to  low,  wished  Tom  success ;  and  I  can 
fancy,  an'  please  your  Honor,  I  see  him 
this  moment  with  his  white  dimity  waist- 
coat and  breeches,  and  hat  a  little  o'  one 
side,  passing  jollily  along  the  street, 
swinging  his  stick,  with  a  smile  and  a 
cheerful  word  for  everybody  he  met.  But 
alas  !  Tom  !  thou  smilest  no  more,  cried 
the  corporal,  looking  on  one  side  of  him 
upon  the  ground,  as  if  he  apostrophized 
him  in  his  dungeon. 

Poor  fellow  !  said  my  uncle  Toby,  feel- 
ingly. 

He  was  an  honest,  light-hearted  lad, 
an'  please  your  Honor,  aa  ever  blood 
warmed. 

Then  he  resembled  thee,  Trim,  said  my 
uncle  Toby,  rapidly. 

The  corporal  blushed  down  to  his 
fingers'  ends  ;  a  tear  of  sentimental  bash- 
fulness,  another  of  gratitude  to  my  uncle 
Toby,  and  a  tear  of  sorrow  for  his  brother's 
misfortunes,  started  into  his  eye,  and  ran 
sweetly  down  his  cheek  together.  My 
uncle  Toby's  kindled,  as  one  lamp  does 
at  another,  and  taking  hold  of  the  breast 
of  Trim's  coat  (which  had  been  that  of 
Le  Fevre's)  as  if  to  ease  his  lame  leg,  but 
in  reality  to  gratify  a  finer  feeling,  he 
stood  silent  for  a  minute  and  a  half;  at  the 
end  of  which  he  took  his  hand  away,  and 
the  corporal,  making  a  bow,  went  on  with 
his  story  of  his  brother  and  the  Jew's 
widow. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

WHEN  Tom,  'an  please  your  Honor,  got 
to  the  shop,  there  was  nobody  in  it  but  a 
poor  negro  girl,  with  a  bunch  of  white 
feathers  slightly  tied  to  the  end  of  a  long 
cane,  flapping  away  flies — not  killing 
them.  'T  is  a  pretty  picture !  said  iny 
uncle  Toby;  she  had  suffered  persecution, 
Trim,  and  had  learnt  mercy. 

She  was  good,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
from  nature,  as  well  as  from  hardships ; 
and  there  are  circumstances  in  the  story 
of  that  poor  friendless  slut,  that  would 
melt  a  heart  of  stone,  said  Trim  ;  and 
some  dismal  winter's  evening,  when  your 
Honor  is  in  the  humor,  they  shall  be  told 
you,  with  the  rest  of  Tom's  story,  for  it 
makes  a  part  of  it. 

Then  do  not  forget,  Trim,  said  my  un- 
rie  Toby. 


A  negro  has  a  soul !  an'  please  your 
Honor,  said  the  corporal  (doubtiugly). 

I  am  not  much  versed,  corporal,  quoth 
my  uncle  Toby,  in  things  of  that  kind ; 
but  I  suppose  God  would  not  leave  him 
without  one,  any  more  than  thee  or  me. 

It  would  be  putting  one  sadly  over  the 
head  of  another,  quoth  the  corporal. 

It  would  so,  said  my  uncle  Toby.  Why, 
then,  an'  please  your  Honor,  is  a  black 
wench  to  be  used  worse  than  a  white 
one? 

I  can  give  no  reason,  said  my  uncle 
Toby. 

Only,  cried  the  corporal,  shaking  his 
head,  because  she  has  no  one  to  stand  up 
for  her. 

'T  is  that  very  thing,  Trim,  quoth  my 
uncle  Toby,  which  recommends  her  to 
protection,  and  her  brethren  with  her; 
't  is  the  fortune  of  war  which  has  put  the 
whip  into  our  hands,  now ;  where  it  may 
be  hereafter,  heaven  knows  I  but  be  it 
where  it  will,  the  brave, Trim,will  not  use 
it  unkindly. 

God  forbid !  said  the  corporal. 

Amen,  responded  my  uncle  Toby,  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

The  corporal  returned  to  his  story,  and 
went  on — but  with  an  embarrassment  in 
doing  it,  which  here  and  there  a  reader  in 
this  world  will  not  be  able  to  compre- 
hend ;  for  by  the  many  sudden  transitions 
all  along,  from  one  kind  and  cordial  pas- 
sion to  another,  in  getting  thus  far  on  his 
way,  he  had  lost  the  sportable  key  of  his 
voice,  which  gave  sense  and  spirit  to  his 
tale:  he  attempted  twice  to  resume  it, 
but  could  not  please  himself;  so  giving  a 
stout  hem !  to  rally  back  the  retreating 
spirits,  and  aiding  nature  at  the  same 
time,  with  his  left  arm  a-kimbo  on  one 
side,  and  with  his  right  a  little  extended, 
supporting  her  on  the  other,  the  corporal 
got  as  near  the  note  as  he  could,  and  in 
that  attitude  continued  his  story. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

As  Tom,  an'  please  your  Honor,  had 
no  business  at  that  time  with  the  Moorish 
girl,  he  passed  on  into  the  room  beyond, 
to  talk  to  the  Jew's  widow  about  love, 
and  his  pound  of  sausages;  and  being,  as 
I  have  told  your  Honor,  an  open,  cheery- 
hearted  lad,  with  his  character  wrote  in 


58 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


his  looks  and  carriage,  he  took  a  chair, 
and  without  much  apology,  but  with  great 
civility  at  the  same  time,  placed  it  close  to 
her  at  the  table,  and  sat  down. 

There  is  nothing  so  awkward  as  court- 
ing a  woman,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
whilst  she  is  making  sausages.  So  Tom 
began  a  discourse  upon  them :  First, 
gravely — "  As  how  they  were  made ;  with 
what  meats,  herbs  and  spices " ;  then,  a 
little  gaily,  as — "  With  what  skins — and 
if  they  never  burst?  Whether  the  largest 
were  not  the  best  ?  "  and  so  on — taking 
care  only  as  he  went  along,  to  season 
what  he  had  to  say  upon  sausages,  rather 
under  than  over,  that  he  might  have  room 
to  act  in. 

It  was  owing  to  the  neglect  of  that  very 
precaution,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  laying 
his  hand  upon  Trim's  shoulder,  that 
Count  de  la  Motte  lost  the  battle  of 
Wynnendale:  he  pressed  too  speedily  into 
the  wood ;  which  if  he  had  not  done, 
Lisle  had  not  fallen  into  our  hands,  nor 
Ghent  and  Bruges,  which  both  followed 
her  example.  It  was  so  late  in  the  year, 
continued  my  uncle  Toby,  and  so  terrible 
a  season  came  on,  that  if  things  had  not 
fallen  out  as  they  did,  our  troops  must 
have  perished  in  the  open  field. 

Why,  therefore,  may  not  battles,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  as  well  as  marriages, 
be  made  in  Heaven?  My  uncle  Toby 
mused.  Religion  inclined  him  to  say  one 
thing,  and  his  high  ideas  of  military  skill 
tempted  him  to  say  another;  so,  not  being 
able  to  frame  a  reply  exactly  to  his  mind, 
my  uncle  Toby  said  nothing  at  all,  and 
the  corporal  finished  his  story. 

As  Torn  perceived,  an'  please  your 
Honor,  that  he  gained  ground,  and  that 
all  he  had  said  upon  the  subject  of  sau- 
sages, was  .kindly  taken,  he  went  on  to  help 
her  a  little  in  making  them.  First,  by 
taking  hold  of  the  ring  of  the  sausage, 
whilst  she  stroked  the  forced  meat  down 
with  her  hand  ;  then  by  cutting  the  strings 
into  proper  lengths,  and  holding  them  in 
his  hand,  whilst  she  took  them  out,  one 
by  one — then  by  putting  them  across  her 
mouth,  that  she  might  take  them  out  as 
she  wanted  them,  and  so  on,  from  little  to 
more,  till  at  last  he  adventured  to  tie  the 
sausage  himself,  whilst  she  held  the 
snout. 

Now  a  widow,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
always  chooses  a  second  husband  as  unlike 
the  first  as  she  can ;  so  the  affair  was  more 


than  half  settled  in  her  mind  before  Tom 
mentioned  it. 

She  made  a  feint,  however,  of  defending 
herself  by  snatching  up  a  sausage.  *  *  * 

She  signed  the  capitulation,  and  Tom 
sealed  it;  and  there  was  an  end  of  the 
matter. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

ALL  womankind,  continued  Trim  (com- 
menting upon  his  story)  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  an'  please  your  Honor, 
love  jokes ;  the  difficulty  is  to  know  how 
they  choose  to  have  them  cut ;  and  there 
is  no  knowing  that  but  by  trying,  as  we 
do  with  our  artillery  in  the  field,  by  rais- 
ing or  letting  down  till  we  hit  the  mark. 

I  like  the  comparison,  said  my  uncle 
Toby,  better  than  the  thing  itself. 

Because,  your  Honor,  quoth  the  cor- 
poral, loves  glory  more  than  pleasure. 

I  hope,  Trim,  answered  my  uncle  Toby, 
I  love  mankind  more  than  either ;  and  as 
the  knowledge  of  arms  tends  so  apparently 
to  the  good  and  quiet  of  the  world,  and 
particularly  that  branch  of  it  which  we 
have  practised  together,  in  our  own  bowl- 
ing-green, has  no  object  but  to  shorten  the 
strides  of  Ambition,  and  entrench  the 
lives  and  fortunes  of  the  few  from  the 
plunderings  of  the  many ;  whenever  that 
drum  beats  in  our  ears,  I  trust,  corporal, 
we  shall  neither  of  us  want  so  much  hu- 
manity and  fellow-feeling  as  to  face  about 
and  march. 

In  pronouncing  this,  my  uncle  Toby 
faced  about  and  marched  firmly  as  at  the 
head  of  the  company ;  and  the  faithful 
corporal,  shouldering  his  stick,  and  strik- 
ing his  hand  upon  his  coat-skirt,  as  he 
took  his  first  step,  marched  close  behind 
him  down  the  avenue. 

Now  what  can  their  two  noddles  be 
about?  cried  my  father  to  my  mother. 
By  all  that's  strange,  they  are  besieging 
Mrs.  Wadman,  in  form,  and  are  marching 
round  her  house  to  mark  out  the  lines  of 
circumvallation ! 

I  dare  say,  quoth  my  mother — But  stop, 
dear  Sir ;  for  what  my  mother  dared  to 
say  upon  the  occasion,  and  what  my 
father  did  say  upon  it,  with  her  replies 
and  his  rejoinders,  shall  be  read,  pe- 
rused, paraphrased,  commented,  or  des- 
canted upon — or  to  say  it  all  in  a  word, 
shall  be  thumbed  over  by  posterity,  in  a 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


chapter  apart ;  I  say  by  posterity,  and 
care  not  if  I  repeat  the  word  again  ;  for 
what  has  this  book  done  more  than  the 
Legation  of  Moses,  or  the  Tale  of  a  Tub, 
that  it  may  not  swim  down  the  gutter  of 
Time  along  with  them  ? 

I  will  not  argue  the  matter.  Time 
wastes  too  fast:  every  letter  I  trace  tells 
me  with  what  rapidity  Life  follows  my 
pen ;  the  days  and  hours  of  it,  more  pre- 
cious my  dear  Jenny,  than  the  rubies  about 
thy  neck,  are  flying  over  our  heads  like 
light  clouds  of  a  windy  day,  never  to  re- 
turn more ;  everything  presses  on  ;  whilst 
thou  art  twisting  that  lock,  see!  it  grows 
grey  ;  and  every  time  I  kiss  thy  hand  to 
bid  adieu,  and  every  absence  which  fol- 
lows it,  are  preludes  to  that  eternal 
separation  which  we  are  shortly  to  make. 

Heaven  have  mercy  upon  us  both  ! 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

Now  for  what  the  world  thinks  of  that 
ejaculation,  I  would  not  give  a  groat. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

MY  mother  had  gone  with  her  left  arm 
twisted  in  my  father's  right,  till  they  had 
got  to  the  fatal  angle  of  the  old  garden- 
wall,  where  Doctor  Slop  was  overthrown 
by  Obadiah  on  the  coach-horse.  As  this 
was  directly  opposite  to  the  front  of  Mrs. 
Wadman's  house,  when  my  father  came 
to  it,  he  gave  a  look  across ;  and  seeing 
my  uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  within 
ten  paces  of  the  door,  he  turned  about. 
"  Let  us  just  stop  a  moment,"  quoth  my 
father,  "  and  see  with  what  ceremonies 
my  brother  Toby  and  his  man  Trim  make 
their  first  entry ;  it  will  not  detain  us," 
added  my  father,  "  a  single  minute." 

No  matter  if  it  be  ten  minutes,  quoth 
my  mother. 

It  will  not  detain  us  half  a  one,  said  my 
father. 

The  corporal  was  just  then  setting  in 
with  the  story  of  his  brother  Tom  and 
the  Jew's  widow  :  the  story  went  on,  and 
on ;  it  had  episodes  in  it  ;  it  came  back 
and  went  on,  and  went  on  again,  there 
was  no  end  of  it :  the  reader  found  it  very 
long. 

G— *  help  my  father !  he  pshawed  fifty 


times  at  every  new  attitude,  and  gave  the 
corporal's  stick,  with  all  its  flourishings 
and  danglings,  to  as  many  devils  as 
chose  to  accept  of  them. 

When  issues  of  events  like  these  my 
father  is  waiting  for,  are  hanging  in  the 
scales  of  fate,  the  mind  has  the  advantage 
of  changing  the  principle  of  expectation 
three  times,  without  which  it  would  not 
have  power  to  see  it  out. 

Curiosity  governs  thejirst  moment ;  and 
the  second  moment  is  all  economy  to  jus- 
tify the  expense  of  the  first ;  and  for  the 
third,  fourth,  fifth,  and  six  moments,  and 
so  on  to  the  day  of  judgment,  'tis  a  point 
of  Honor. 

I  need  not  be  told  that  the  ethic  writers 
have  assigned  this  all  to  Patience ;  but 
that  virtue,  methinks,  has  extent  of  do- 
minion sufficient  of  her  own,  and  enough 
to  do  in  it,  without  invading  the  few  dis- 
mantled castles  which  Honor  has  left  him 
upon  the  earth. 

My  father  stood  it  out  as  well  as  he 
could  with  these  three  auxiliaries^  to  the 
end  of  Trim's  story ;  and  from  thence  to 
the  end  of  my  uncle  Toby's  panegyric 
upon  arms,  in  the  chapter  following  it ; 
when  seeing  that,  instead  of  marching 
up  to  Mrs.  Wadman's  door,  they  both 
faced  about  and  marched  down  the  avenue 
diametrically  opposite  to  his  expectation, 
he  broke  out  at  once  with  that  little  sub- 
acid  sourness  of  humor,  which,  in  certain 
situations,  distinguished  his  character 
from  that  of  all  other  men. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

"  Now  what  can  their  two  noddles  be 
about? ''  cried  my  father,  &c.  .  .  . 

I  dare  say,  said  my  mother,  they  are 
making  fortifications. 

Not  on  Mrs.  Wadman's  premises !  cried 
my  father,  stepping  back. 

I  suppose  not,  quoth  my  mother. 

I  wish,  said  my  father,  raising  his  voice, 
the  whole  science  of  fortification  at  the 
devil,  with  all  its  trumpery  of  saps, 
mines,  blinds,  gabions,  faussebrays,  and 
cuvettes. 

They  are  foolish  things,  said  my  mother. 

Now  she  had  a  way,  which,  by  the  by, 
I  would  this  moment  give  away  my  pur- 
ple-jerkin, and  my  yellow  slippers  into 
the  bargain,  if  some  of  your  Reverenc«t 


60 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


would  imitate,  and  that  was,  never  to  re- 
fuse her  assent  and  consent  to  any  prop- 
osition my  father  laid  before  her,  merely 
because  she  did  not  understand  it,  or  had 
no  ideas  of  the  principal  word  or  term  of 
art  upon  which  the  tenet  or  proposition 
rolled.  She  contented  herself  with  doing 
all  that  her  godfathers  and  godmothers 
promised  for  her,  but  no  more ;  and  so 
would  go  on  using  a  hard  word  for  twenty 
years  together,  and  replying  to  it  too,  if 
it  was  a  verb,  in  all  its  moods  and  tenses, 
without  giving  herself  any  trouble  to  in- 
quire about  it. 

This  was  an  eternal  source  of  misery  to 
my  father,  and  broke  the  neck,  at  the  first 
setting  out,  of  more  good  dialogues  be- 
tween them,  than  could  have  done  the 
most  petulant  contradiction ;  the  few 
that  survived  were  the  better  for  the 
cuvettes. 

"They  are  foolish  things,"  said  my 
mother. 

Particularly  the  cuvettes,  replied  my 
father. 

It  was  enough ;  he  tasted  the  sweet  of 
triumph,  and  went  on. 

Not  that  they  are,  properly  speaking, 
Mrs.  Wadman's  premises,  said  my  father, 
partly  correcting  himself,  because  she  is 
but  a  tenant  for  life. 

That  makes  a  great  difference,  said  my 
mother. 

In  a  fool's  head,  replied  my  father. 

Unless  she  should  happen  to  have  a 
child,  said  my  mother. 

But  she  must  persuade  my  brother  Toby 
first  to  get  her  one. 

To  be  sure,  Mr.  Shandy,  quoth  my 
mother. 

Though  if  it  comes  to  persuasion,  said 
my  father,  Lord  have  mercy  upon  them  ! 

Amen,  said  my  mother,  piano. 

Amen,  cried  my  father,  fortissimo. 

Amen,  said  my  mother  again,  but  with 
such  a  sighing  cadence  of  personal  pity 
at  the  end  of  it,  as  discomfited  every  fibre 
about  my  father ;  he  instantly  took  out 
his  almanac ;  but  before  he  could  untie  it, 
Yorick's  congregation  coming  out  of 
church,  became  a  full  answer  to  one  half 
of  his  business  with  it,  and  my  mother 
telling  him  it  was  a  sacrament  day,  left 
him  as  little  in  doubt,  as  to  the  other 
part.  He  put  his  almanac  into  his 
pocket. 

The  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  think- 
ing of  ways  and  means,  could  not  have 


returned  home  with  a  more  embarrassed 
look. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

UPON  looking  back  from  the  end  of  the 
last  chapter,  and  surveying  the  texture  of 
what  has  been  wrote,  it  is  necessary,  that 
upon  this  page  and  the  five  following,  a 
good  quantity  of  heterogeneous  matter  be 
inserted,  to  keep  that  just  balance  betwixt 
wisdom  and  folly,  without  which,  a  book 
would  net  hold  together  a  single  year ; 
nor  is  it  a  poor  creeping  digression 
(which,  but  for  the  name  of,  a  man  might 
continue  as  well  going  on  in  the  King's 
highway)  which  will  do  the  business. 
No,  if  it  is  to  be  a  digression,  it  must  be  a 
good  frisky  one,  and  upon  a  frisky  subject 
too,  where  neither  the  horse  nor  his  rider 
are  to  be  caught  but  by  rebound. 

The  only  difficulty  is,  raising  powers 
suitable  to  the  nature  of  the  service : 
Fancy  is  capricious ;  Wit  must  not  be 
searched  for,  and  Pleasantry  (good-natur- 
ed slut  as  she  is)  will  not  come  in  at  a 
call,  was  an  empire  to  be  laid  at  her  feet. 

The  best  way  for  a  man  is,  to  say  his 
prayers. 

Only,  if  it  puts  him  in  mind  of  his  in- 
firmities and  defects,  as  well  ghostly  as 
bodily,  for  that  purpose,  he  will  find  him- 
self rather  worse  after  he  has  said  them 
than  before ;  for  other  purposes  better. 

For  my  own  part,  there  is  not  a  way, 
either  moral  or  mechanical,  under  hea- 
ven, that  I  could  think  of,  which  I  have 
not  taken  with  myself  in  this  case ;  some- 
times by  addressing  myself  directly  to  the 
soul  herself,  and  arguing  the  point  over 
and  over  again  with  her,  upon  the  extent 
of  her  own  faculties. 

I  never  could  make  them  an  inch  the 
wider. 

Then  by  changing  my  system,  and  try- 
ing what  could  be  made  of  it  upon  the 
body,  by  temperance,  soberness,  and 
chastity.  "These  are  good,  quoth  I,  in 
themselves  ;  they  are  good,  absolutely  ; 
they  are  good,  relatively ;  they  are  good 
for  health ;  they  are  good  for  happiness 
in  this  world ;  they  are  good  for  happi- 
ness in  the  next. 

In  short,  they  are  good  for  every  thing 
but  the  thing  wanted  ;  and  there  they  are 
good  for  nothing,  but  to  leave  the  soul 
just  as  Heaven  made  it.  Aa  for  the  theo- 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


logical  virtues  of  Faith  and  Hope,  they 
give  it  courage ;  but  then,  that  snivelling 
virtue  of  Meekness  (as  my  father  would 
always  call  it)  takes  it  quite  away  again, 
so  you  are  exactly  where  you  started. 

Now,  in  all  common  and  ordinary  cases, 
there  is  nothing  which  I  have  found  to 
answer  so  well  as  this. 

Certainly,  if  there  is  any  dependence 
upon  Logic,  and  that  I  am  not  blinded  by 
self-love,  there  must  be  something  of  true 
genius  about  me,  merely  upon  this  symp- 
tom of  it,  That  I  do  not  know  what  Envy 
is :  for  never  do  I  hit  upon  any  invention 
or  device  which  tendeth  to  the  further- 
ance of  good  writing,  but  I  instantly  make 
it  public ;  willing  that  all  mankind  should 
write  as  well  as  myself: 

Which  they  certainly  will,  when  they 
think  as  little. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Now,  in  ordinary  cases,  that  is,  when  I 
am  only  stupid,  and  the  thoughts  rise 
heavily  and  pass  gummous  through  my 
pen — 

Or  that  I  am  got,  I  know  not  how,  into 
a  cold  unmetaphorical  vein  of  infamous 
writing,  and  cannot  take  a  plumb-lift  out 
of  it  for  my  soul ;  so  must  be  obliged  to 
go  on  writing  like  a  Dutch  commentator 
to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  unless  some- 
thing be  done — 

I  never  stand  conferring  with  pen  and 
ink  one  moment,  for  if  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
or  a  stride  or  two  across  the  room,  will 
not  do  the  business  for  me,  I  take  a  razor 
at  once ;  and  having  tried  the  edge  of  it 
upon  the  palm  of  my  hand,  without 
further  ceremony,  except  that  of  first 
lathering  my  beard,  I  shave  it  off;  taking 
care  only,  if  I  do  leave  a  hair,  that  it  be 
not  a  grey  one;  this  done,  I  change  my 
shirt,  put  on  a  better  coat,  send  for  my 
last  wig,  put  my  topaz-ring  upon  my 
finger ;  and,  in  a  word,  dress  myself  from 
one  end  to  the  other  of  me,  after  my  best 
fashion. 

Now  the  Devil  must  be  in  it,  if  this 
does  not  do :  for,  consider,  Sir,  as  every 
man  chooses  to  be  present  at  the  shaving 
of  his  own  beard  (though  there  is  no  rule 
without  an  exception),  and  unavoidably 
sits  over-against  himself  the  whole  time 
it  is  doing,  in  case  he  has  a  hand  in  it, 


the  situation,  like  all  others,  had  notions 
of  her  own  to  put  into  the  brain. 

I  maintain  it,  the  conceits  of  a  rough- 
bearded  man  are  seven  years  more  terse 
and  juvenile  for  one  single  operation,  and 
if  they  did  not  run  a  risk  of  being  quite 
shaved  away,  might  be  carried  up,  by 
continual  shavings,  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  sublimity.  How  Homer  could  write 
with  so  long  a  beard,  I  don't  know  ;  and 
as  it  makes  against  my  hypothesis,  I  as 
little  care  :  but  let  us  return  to  the  Toilet. 

Ludovicus  Sorbonensis  makes  this  en- 
tirely an  affair  of  the  body  (ffwrcp/w?  rpaf*r) 
as  he  calls  it,  but  he  is  deceived  :  the  soul 
and  body  are  joint-sharers  in  every  thing 
they  get :  a  man  cannot  dress,  but  his 
ideas  get  clothed  at  the  same  time :  and 
if  he  dresses  like  a  gentleman,  every  one 
of  them  stands  presented  to  his  imagina- 
tion, genteelized  along  with  him  ;  so  that 
he  has  nothing  to  do  but  take  his  pen  and 
write  like  himself. 

For  this  cause,  when  your  Honors  and 
Reverences  would  know  whether  I  write 
clean,  and  fit  to  be  read,  you  will  be  able 
to  judge  full  as  well  by  looking  into  my 
laundress's  bill,  as  my  book:  there  was 
one  single  month,  in  which  I  can  make  it 
appear,  that  I  dirtied  one-and-thirty 
shirts  with  clean  writing ;  and  after  all, 
was  more  abused,  cursed,  criticised,  and 
confounded,  and  had  more  mystic  heads 
shaken  at  me,  for  what  I  had  wrote  in  that 
one  month,  than  in  all  the  other  months 
of  that  year  put  together. 

But  their  Honors  and  Reverences  had 
not  seen  my  bills. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

As  I  never  had  any  intention  of  begin- 
ning the  Digression  I  am  making  all  this 
preparation  for,  till  I  came  to  the  50th 
chapter,  I  have  this  chapter  to  put  to 
whatever  use  I  think  proper.  I  have 
twenty  this  moment  ready  for  it.  I  could 
write  my  chapter  of  Button-holes  in  it. 

Or  my  chapter  of  Pishes,  which  should 
follow  them — 

Or  my  chapter  of  Knots,  in  case  their 
Reverences  have  done  with  them:  they 
might  lead  me  into  mischief.  The  safest 
way  is,  to  follow  the  track  of  the  learned, 
and  raise  objections  against  what  I  have 
been  writing,  though  I  declare  beforehand^ 


62 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


I  know  no  more  than  my  heels  how  to  an- 
swer them. 

And  first,  it  may  be  said;  there  is  a 
pelting  kind  of  T/iersitical  satire,  as  black 
as  the  very  ink  'tis  wrote  with  (and  by 
the  bye,  whoever  says  so,  is  indebted  to 
the  Muster-master  General  of  the  Grecian 
army,  for  suffering  the  name  of  so  ugly 
and  foul-mouthed  a  man  as  Thersites  to 
continue  upon  his  roll,  for  it  has  furnished 
him  with  an  epithet)  in  these  productions, 
he  will  urge  all  the  personal  washings  and 
scrubbings  upon  earth  do  a  sinking  genius 
no  sort  of  good,  but  just  the  contrary,  in- 
asmuch asthe  dirtier  the  fellow  is,  the  bet- 
ter generally  he  succeeds  in  it. 

To  this  I  have  no  other  answer,  at  least 
ready,  but  that  the  Archbishop  of  Bene- 
vento  wrote  his  nasty  romance  of  the 
Galatea,  as  all  the  world  knows,  in  a 
purple  coat,  waist-coat,  and  purple  pair 
of  breeches  ;  and  that  the  penance  set  him 
of  writing  a  commentary  upon  the  book 
of  the  Revelations,  as  severe  as  it  was 
looked  upon  by  one  part  of  the  world, 
was  far  from  being  deemed  so  by  the 
other,  upon  the  single  account  of  that 
Investment. 

Another  objection  to  all  this  remedy, 
is  its  want  of  universality ;  forasmuch  as 
the  shaving  part  of  it,  upon  which  so 
much  stress  is  laid,  by  an  unalterable  law 
of  nature  excludes  one  half  of  the  species 
entirely  from  its  use,  all  I  can  say,  is, 
that  female  writers,  whether  of  England, 
or  of  France,  must  e'en  go  without  it. 

As  for  the  Spanish  ladies,  I  am  in  no 
sort  of  distress. 


CHAPTER   L. 

THE  fiftieth  chapter  has  come  at  last 
and  brings  nothing  with  it  but  a  sad  signa- 
ture of  "  How  our  pleasures  slip  from 
under  us  in  this  world ! '' 

For  in  talking  of  my  Digression,  I  de- 
clare before  Heaven,  I  have  made  it! 
What  a  strange  creature  is  mortal  man  ! 
said  she. 

'T  is  very  true,  said  I ;  but 't  were  better 
to  get  all  these  things  out  of  our  heads, 
and  return  to  my  uncle  Toby. 


CHAPTER   LI. 

WHEN  my  uncle  Toby  and  the  corpo- 


ral had  marched  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  avenue,  they  recollected  their  business 
lay  the  other  way ;  so  they  faced  about, 
and  marched  straight  up  to  Mrs.  Wad- 
man's  door. 

I  warrant  your  Honor,  said  the  corpo- 
ral, touching  his  Montero-cap  with  his 
hand  as  he  passed  him,  in  order  to  give  a 
knock  at  the  door.  My  uncle  Toby,  con- 
trary to  his  invariable  way  of  treating  his 
faithful  servant,  said  nothing  good  or 
bad :  the  truth  was,  he  had  not  altogether 
marshalled  his  ideas :  he  wished  for 
another  conference,  and,  as  the  corporal 
was  mounting  up  the  three  steps  before 
the  door,  he  hemmed  twice  ;  a  portion  of 
my  uncle  Toby's  most  modest  spirits  fled, 
at  each  expulsion,  towards  the  corporal ; 
he  stood  with  the  rapper  of  the  door  sus- 
pended for  a  full  minute  in  his  hand,  he 
scarce  knew  why.  Bridget  stood  perdue 
within,  with  her  finger  and  her  thumb 
upon  the  latch,  benumbed  with  expecta- 
tion ;  and  Mrs.  Wadman,  with  an  eye 
ready  to  be  deflowered  again,  sat  breath- 
less behind  the  window-curtain  of  her 
bed-chamber,  watching  their  approach. 

Trim  I  said  my  uncle  Toby  ;  but,  as  he 
articulated  the  word,  the  minute  expired, 
and  Trim  let  fall  the  rapper. 

My  uncle  Toby,  perceiving  that  all 
hopes  of  a  conference  were  knocked  on 
the  head  by  it,  whistled  Lillibullero. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

As  Mrs.  Bridget's  "finger  and  thumb 
were  upon  the  latch,  the  captain  did  not 
knock  as  often  as  perchance  your  Honor's 
tailor.  I  might  have  taken  my  example 
something  nearer  home  ;  for  I  owe  mine 
some  five-and-twenty  pounds  at  least,  and 
wonder  at  the  man's  patience. 

But  this  is  nothing  at  all  to  the  world  : 
only  't  is  a  cursed  thing  to  be  in  debt ; 
and  there  seems  to  be  a  fatality  in  the  ex- 
chequers of  some  poor  princes,  particu- 
larly those  of  our  house,  which  no  econo- 
my can  bind  down  in  irons.  For  my  own 
part,  I'm  persuaded  there  is  not  any  one 
prince,  prelate,  pope,  or  potentate,  great 
or  small,  upon  earth,  more  desirous  in  his 
heart  of  keeping  straight  with  the  world 
than  I  am,  or  who  takes  more  likely 
means  for  it.  I  never  give  above  half  a 
guinea  nor  walk  with  boots,  nor  cheapen 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


toothpicks,  nor  lay  out  a  shilling  upon  a 
band-box,  the  year  round :  and  for  the 
six  months  I'm  in  the  country,  I'm  upon 
BO  small  a  scale,  that  with  all  the  good 
temper  in  the  world,  I  outdo  Rousseau  a 
bar-length !  for  I  keep  neither  man  nor 
boy,  nor  horse,  nor  cow,  nor  dog,  nor  cat, 
nor  anything  that  can  eat  or  drink,  ex- 
cept a  thin  poor  piece  of  a  vestal  (to  keep 
my  fire  in)  and  who  has  generally  as  bad 
an  appetite  as  myself:  but,  if  you  think 
this  makes  a  philosopher  of  me,  I  would 
not,  my  good  people,  give  a  rush  for  your 
judgments. 

True  philosophy ;  but  there  is  no  treat- 
ing the  subject  whilst  my  uncle  is  whist- 
ling Lillibullero. 

Let  us  go  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


CHAPTER   LV. 

*  * 

*  * 


You  shall  see  the  very  place,  Madam, 
said  my  uncle  Toby. 

Mrs.  Wadman  blushed,  looked  towards 
the  door,  turned  pale,  blushed  slightly 
again,  recovered  her  natural  color,  blushed 
worse  than  ever ;  which,  for  the  sake  of 
the  unlearned  reader,  I  translate  thus  : 

"  L — d  t  I  cannot  look  at  it  I 

What  would  the  world  say  if  Hooked  atitl 

I  should  drop  down  if  I  looked  at  it  I 

I  wish  I  could  look  at  it. 

There  can  be  no  sin  in  looking  at  it. 

I  will  look  at  it." 

Whilst  all  thig  was  running  through 
Mrs.  Wadman's  imagination  my  uncle 
Toby  had  risen  from  the  sofa,  and  got  to 
the  other  side  of  the  parlor-door,  to  give 

Trim  an  order  about  it  in  the  passage 

#***#*#* 

*       *        *       *        I  believe  it  is 
in  the  garret,  said  my  uncle  Toby.    I  saw 


it  there,  an'  please  your  Honor,  this 
morning,  answered  Trim.  Then  prithee 
step  directly  for  it,  Trim,  said  my  uncle 
Toby,  and  bring  it  into  the  parlor. 

The  corporal  did  not  approve  of  the 
orders  ;  but  most  cheerfully  obeyed  them. 
The  first  was  not  an  act  of  hia  will ;  the 
second  was;  so  he  put  on  his  Montero- 
cap,  and  went  as  fast  as  his  lame  knee 
would  let  him.  My  uncle  Toby  returned 
into  the  parlor,  and  sat  himself  down 
again  upon  the  sofa. 

You  shall  lay  your  finger  upon  the 
place,  said  my  uncle  Toby.  I  will  not 
touch  it,  however,  quoth  Mrs.  Wadman  to 
herself. 

This  requires  a  second  translation : — it 
shows  what  little  knowledge  is  got  by 
mere  words ;  we  must  go  up  to  the  first 
springs. 

Now,  in  order  to  clear  up  the  mist  which 
hangs  upon  these  three  pages,  I  must  en- 
deavor to  be  as  clear  as  possible  myself. 

Rub  your  hands  thrice  across  your  fore- 
heads, blow  your  noses,  cleanse  your 
emunctories,  sneeze,  my  good  people; 
God  bless  you. 

Now  give  me  all  the  help  you  can. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

As  there  are  fifty  different  ends  (count- 
ing all  ends  in,  as  well  civil  as  religious) 
for  which  a  woman  takes  a  husband,  she 
first  sets  about  and  carefully  weighs,  then 
separates  and  distinguishes,  in  her  mind, 
which  of  all  that  number  of  ends  is  hers ; 
then,  by  discourse,  inquiry,  argumentation 
and  inference,  she  investigates  and  finds 
out  whether  she  has  got  hold  of  the  right 
one ;  and,  if  she  has,  then,  by  pulling  it 
gently  this  way  and  that  way,  she  further 
forms  a  judgment,  whether  it  will  not 
break  in  the  drawing. 

The  imagery  under  which  Slawkenber- 
gius  impresses  this  upon  his  reader's 
fancy,  in  the  beginning  of  his  third  De- 
cade, is  so  ludicrous,  that  the  honor  I 
bear  the  sex  will  not  suffer  me  to  quote 
it,  otherwise  it  is  not  destitute  of  humor. 

"  She  first,  saith  Slawkenbergius,  stops 
the  ass ;  and  holding  his  halter  in 
her  left  hand  (lest  he  should  get  away) 
she  thrusts  her  right  hand  into  the  very 
bottom  of  his  pannier,  to  search  for  it. 
For  what  ?  You'll  not  know  the  sooner, 


64          THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


quoth  Slawkenbergius,  for  interrupting 
me. 

"  I  have  nothing,  good  lady,  but  empty 
bottles,"  says  the  ass. 

"I  am  loaded  with  tripes,"  says  the 
second. 

And  thou  art  little  better,  quoth  she  to 
the  third;  for  nothing  is  there  in  thy 
panniers  but  trunk-hose  and  pantofles; 
and  so  to  the  fourth  and  fifth,  going  on, 
one  by  one,  through  the  whole  string,  till 
coming  to  the  ass  which  carries  it,  she 
turns  the  pannier  upside-down,  looks  at 
it,  considers  it,  samples  it,  measures  it, 
stretches  it,  wets  it,  dries  it,  then  takes 
her  teeth  to  the  warp  and  weft  of  it. 

Of  what?  for  the  love  of  Christ ! 

I  am  determined,  answered  Slawken- 
bergius, that  all  the  powers  upon  earth 
shall  never  wring  that  secret  from  my 
breast. 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

WE  live  in  a  world  beset  on  all  sides 
with  mysteries  and  riddles,  and  so  'tis  no 
matter;  else  it  seems  strange,  that  Nature, 
who  makes  every  thing  so  well  to  answer 
its  destination,  and  seldom  or  never  errs, 
unless  for  pastime,  in  giving  such  forms 
and  aptitudes,  to  whatever  passes  through 
her  hands,  that,  whether  she  designs  for 
the  plow,  the  caravan,  the  cart,  or  what- 
ever other  creature  she  models,  be  it  but 
an  ass's  foal,  you  are  sure  to  have  the 
thing  you  wanted ;  and  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  should  so  eternally  bungle  it  as  she 
does,  in  making  so  simple  a  thing  as  a 
married  man. 

Whether  it  is  in  the  choice  of  the  clay, 
or  that  it  is  frequently  spoiled  in  the  bak- 
ing (by  an  excess  of  which  a  husband 
may  turn  out  too  crusty,  you  know,  on 
one  hand,  or  not  enough  so,  through  de- 
fect of  heat,  on  the  other) ;  or  whether 
this  great  artificer  is  not  so  attentive  to 
the  little  Platonic  exigencies  of  that  part 
of  the  species,  for  whose  use  she  is  fabri- 
cating this ;  or  that  her  Ladyship  some- 
times scarce  knows  what  sort  of  a  husband 
will  do,  I  know  not :  we  will  discourse 
about  it  after  supper. 

It  is  enough,  that  neither  the  observa- 
tion itself,  nor  the  reasoning  upon  it,  are 
at  all  to  the  purpose — but  rather  against 
it ;  since,  with  regard  to  my  uncle  Toby's 
fitness  for  the  marriage  state,  nothing  was 


ever  better ;  she  had  formed  him  of  the 
best  and  kindliest  clay,  and  tempered  it 
with  her  own  milk,  and  breathed  into  it 
the  sweetest  spirit ;  she  made  him  all 
gentle,  generous,  and  humane ;  she  had 
filled  his  hea.rt  with  trust  and  confidence, 
and  disposed  every  passage  which  led  to 
it  for  the  communication  of  the  tenderest 
offices ;  she  had,  moreover,  considered 
the  other  causes  for  which  matrimony  was 
ordained — 
And,  accordingly, 


The  Donation  was  not  defeated  by  my 
uncle  Toby's  wound. 

Now,  this  last  article  was  somewhat 
apocryphal ;  and  the  Devil,  who  is  the 
great  disturber  of  our  faiths  in  this  world, 
had  raised  scruples  in  Mrs.  Wadman's 
brain  about  it ;  and  like  a  true  Devil  as 
he  was,  had  done  his  own  work  at  the 
same  time,  by  turning  my  uncle  Toby's 
virtue  thereupon  into  nothing  but  empty 
bottles,  tripes,  trunk-hose  and  pantofles. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MRS.  BRIDGET  had  pawned  all  the  little 
stock  of  honor  a  poor  chambermaid  was 
worth  in  the  world,  that  she  would  get 
to  the  bottom  of  the  affair  in  ten  days ; 
and  it  was  built  upon  one  of  the  most 
concessible  postulata  in  nature  ;  namely, 
that,  whilst  my  uncle  Toby  was  making 
love  to  her  mistress,  the  corporal  could 
find  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  make 
love  to  her ;  "  And  Til  let  him  as  much  as 
he  will,1'  said  Bridget,  "to  get  it  out  of 
him." 

Friendship  has  two  garments,  an  outer 
and  an  under  one.  Bridget  was  serving 
her  mistress's  interests  in  the  one,  and 
doing  the  thing  which  most  pleased  her- 
self in  the  other ;  so  had  as  many  stakes 
depending  upon  my  uncle  Toby's  wound 
as  the  Devil  himself.  Mrs.  Wadman  had 
but  one,  and  as  it  possibly  might  be  her 
last  (without  discouraging  Mrs.  Bridget, 
or  discrediting  her  talents)  was  determin- 
ed to  play  her  cards  herself. 

She  wanted  not  encouragement ;  a  child 
might  have  looked  into  his  hand ;  there 
was  such  a  plainness  and  simplicity  in  his 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  W  ADMAN. 


65 


playing  out  what  trumpa  lie  had,  with  such 
an  unmistrusting  ignorance  of  the  ten-ace, 
and  so  defenceless  did  he  sit  upon  the 
earue  sofa  with  Widow  Wadman,  that  a 
generous  heart  would  have  wept  to  have 
won  the  game  of  him. 
Let  us  drop  the  metaphor. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

AND  the  story,  too,  if  you  please  ;  for 
though  I  have  all  along  been  hastening 
towards  this  part  of  it,  with  so  much  earn- 
est desire,  as  well  knowing  it  to  be  the 
choicest  morsel  of  what  I  had  to  offer  to 
the  world,  yet  now  that  I  am  got  to  it, 
any  one  is  welcome  to  take  my  pen  and 
go  on  with  the  story  for  me  that  will ;  I 
see  the  difficulties  of  the  descriptions  I 
am  going  to  give,  and  feel  my  want  of 
powers. 

It  is  one  comfort  at  least  to  me,  that  I 
lost  some  fourscore  ounces  of  blood  this 
week  in  a  most  uncritical  fever  which 
attacked  me  at  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter :  so  that  I  have  still  some  hopes 
remaining  it  may  be  more  in  the  serous 
or  globular  parts  of  the  blood,  than  in  the 
subtle  aura  of  the  brain  :  be  it  which  it 
will,  an  Invocation  can  do  no  hurt ;  and  I 
leave  the  affair  entirely  to  the  invoked,  to 
inspire  or  to  inject  me  according  as  he  sees 
good. 

THE  INVOCATION. 

Gentle  Spirit  of  sweetest  humor,  who 
erst  did  sit  upon  the  easy  pen  of  my  be- 
loved Cervantes!  Thou  who  glidedst 
daily  through  his  lattice,  and  turnedst 
the  twilight  of  his  prison  into  noon-day 
brightness  by  thy  presence,  tingedst  his 
little  urn  of  water  with  heaven-sent  nectar, 
and,  all  the  time  he  wrote  of  Sancho  and 
his  master,  didst  cast  thy  mystic  mantle 
o'er  his  withered  stump,1  and  wide  -ex- 
tended it  to  all  the  evils  of  his  life. 

Turn  in  hither,  I  beseech  thee !  behold 
these  breeches  !  they  are  all  I  have  in  the 
world  ;  that  piteous  rent  was  given  them 
at  Lyons. 

My  shirts  I  see  what  a  deadly  schism  has 
happened  amongst  them ;  for  the  laps 
are  in  Lombardy,  and  the  rest  of  them 
here.  I  never  had  but  six,  and  a  cunning 


1  He  lost  his  hand  at  the  battle  of  Lepanto. 
VOL.   II. — W.  H. 


gipsy  of  a  laundress  at  Milan  cut  me  off 
the /ore-laps  of  five.  To  do  her  justice, 
she  did  it  with  some  consideration,  for  I 
was  returning  out  of  Italy. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  and 
a  pistol  tinder-box,  which  was,  moreover, 
filched  from  me  at  Sienna,  and  twice  that 
I  paid  five  Pauls  for  two  hard  eggs,  once 
at  Raddicofiui,  and  a  second  time  at 
Capua,  I  do  not  think  a  journey  through 
France  and  Italy,  provided  a  man  keeps 
his  temper  all  the  way,  so  bad  a  thing  as 
some  people  would  make  you  believe; 
there  must  be  ups  and  downs,  or  how  the 
deuce  should  we  get  into  valleys  where 
Nature  spreads  so  many  tables  of  enter- 
tainment? 'T  is  nonsense  to  imagine  they 
will  lend  you  their  voitures  to  be  shaken 
to  pieces  for  nothing ;  and,  unless  you  pay 
twelve  sous  for  greasing  your  wheels,  how 
should  the  poor  peasant  get  butter  to  his 
bread  ?  We  really  expect  too  much,  and, 
for  the  livre  or  two  above  par  for  your 
supper  and  bed,  at  the  most  they  are  but 
one  shilling  and  nine-pence  halfpenny, 
who  would  embroil  their  philosophy  for 
it  ?  for  Heaven's  and  for  your  own  sake, 
pay  it,  pay  it  with  both  hands  open,  rather 
than  leave  Disappointment  sitting  droop- 
ing upon  the  eyes  of  your  fair  hostess  and 
her  damsels  in  the  gateway,  at  your  de- 
parture; and  besides,  my  dear  Sir,  you 
get  a  sisterly  kiss  of  each  of  them,  worth 
a  pound :  at  least  I  did. 

For  my  uncle  Toby's  amours  running 
all  the  way  in  my  head,  they  had  the  same 
effect  upon  me  as  if  they  had  been  my 
own.  I  was  in  the  most  perfect  state  of 
bounty  and  good-will,  and  felt  the  kind- 
liest harmony  vibrating  within  me ;  with 
every  oscillation  of  the  chaise  alike ; 
so  that,  whether  the  roads  were  rough  or 
smooth,  it  made  no  difference;  every- 
thing I  saw,  or  had  to  do  with,  touched 
upon  some  secret  spring,  either  of  senti- 
•ment  or  rapture. 

They  were  the  sweetest  notes  I  ever 
heard  ;  and  I  instantly  let  down  the  fore- 
glass  to  hear  them  more  distinctly.  'Tia 
Maria,  said  the  postillion,  observing  I 
was  listening.  Poor  Maria,  continued 
he  (leaning  his  body  on  one  side  to  let  me 
see  her,  for  he  was  in  a  line  betwixt  us), 
is  sitting  upon  a  bank,  playing  her  ves- 
pers upon  her  pipe,  with  her  little  goat 
beside  her. 

The  young  fellow  uttered  this  with  an 
accent  and  a  look  so  perfectly  in  tune  to 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


A  feeling  heart,  th.it  I  instantly  made  a 
vow  I  would  give  him  a  four-and-twenty 
sous  piece  when  I  got  to  Moulins. 

And  who  is  poor  Maria  ?  said  I. 

The  love  and  pity  of  all  the  villages 
around  us,  said  the  postillion :  it  is  but 
three  years  ago  that  the  sun  did  not  shine 
upon  so  fair,  so  quick-witted,  and  amiable 
a  maid ;  and  better  fate  did  Maria  deserve 
than  to  have  her  bans  forbid  by  the  in- 
trigues of  the  curate  of  the  parish  who 
published  them. 

He  was  going  on,  when  Maria,  who 
had  made  a  short  pause,  put  the  pipe  to 
her  mouth  and  began  the  air  again ;  they 
were  the  same  notes,  yet  were  ten  times 
sweeter.  It  is  the  evening  service  to  the 
Virgin,  said  the  young  man  ;  but  who  has 
taught  her  to  play  it,  or  how  she  came  by 
her  pipe,  no  one  knows ;  we  think  that 
Heaven  has  assisted  her  in  both ;  for, 
ever  since  she  has  been  unsettled  in  her 
mind,  it  seems  her  only  consolation,  she 
has  never  once  had  the  pipe  out  of  her 
hand,  but  plays  that  service  upon  it 
almost  day  and  night. 

The  postillion  delivered  this  with  so 
much  discretion  and  natural  eloquence, 
that  I  could  not  help  deciphering  some- 
thing in  his  face  above  his  condition,  and 
should  have  sifted  out  his  history,  had  not 
poor  Maria's  taken  such  full  posession 
of  me. 

We  had  got  up  by  this  time  almost  to 
the  bank  where  Maria  was  sitting;  she 
was  in  a  thin  white  jacket,  with  her  hair, 
all  but  two  tresses,  drawn  up  into  a  silk 
net,  with  a  few  olive  leaves  twisted  a  little 
fantastically  on  one  side ;  she  was  beau- 
tiful ;  and,  if  ever  I  felt  the  full  force  of 
an  honest  heart-ache,  it  was  the  moment 
I  saw  her. 

God  help  her  I  poor  damsel !  above  a 
hundred  masses,  said  the  postillion,  have 
been  said,  in  the  several  parish -churches 
and  convents  around,  for  her,  but  without 
effect ;  we  have  still  hopes,  as  she  is  sen- 
sible for  short  intervals,  that  the  Virgin 
at  last  will  restore  her  to  herself ;  but  her 
parents,  who  know  her  best,  are  hopeless 
upon  that  score,  and  think  her  senses  are 
lost  for  ever. 

As  the  postillion  spoke  this,  Maria 
made  a  cadence  so  melancholy,  so  tender 
and  querulous,  that  I  sprung  out  of  the 
chaise  to  help  her,  and  found  myself  sit- 
ting betwixt  her  and  her  goat  before  I 
relapsed  from  my  enthusiasm. 


Maria  looked  wistfully  for  some  time  at 
me,  and  then  at  her  goat,  and  then  at  me, 
and  then  at  her  goat  again,  and  so  on, 
alternately. 

Well,  Maria,  said  I  softly,  what  resem- 
blance do  you  find  ? 

I  do  entreat  the  candid  reader  to  believe 
me,  that  it  was  from  the  humblest  convic- 
tion of  what  a  beast  man  is,  that  I  asked 
the  question  ;  and  that  I  would  not  have 
let  fall  an  unseasonable  pleasantry  in  the 
venerable  presence  of  Misery,  to  be  en- 
titled to  all  the  wit  that  ever  Rabelais 
scattered,  and  yet  I  own  my  heart  smote 
me,  and  that  I  so  smarted  at  the  very 
idea  of  it,  that  I  swore  I  would  set  up  for 
Wisdom,  and  utter  grave  sentences  the 
rest  of  my  days ;  and  never,  never  attempt 
again  to  commit  mirth  with  man,  woman, 
or  child,  the  longest  day  I  had  to  live. 

As  for  writing  nonsense  to  them,  I  be- 
lieve there  was  a  reserve ;  but  that  I  leave 
to  the  world. 

Adieu,  Maria !  adieu,  poor  hapless 
damsel !  some  time  but  not  now,  I  may 
hear  thy  sorrows  from  thy  own  lips,  but 
I  was  deceived;  for  that  moment  she 
took  her  pipe  and  told  me  such  a  tale  of 
woe  with  it,  that  I  rose  up,  and  with 
broken  and  irregular  steps  walked  softly 
to  my  chaise. 

What  an  excellent  inn  at  Moulins ! 


CHAPTER   LX. 

WHEN  we  have  got  to  the  end  of  this 
chapter  (but  not  before)  we  must  all  turn 
back  to  the  two  blank  chapters ;  on  the 
account  of  which  my  honor  has  lain 
bleeding  this  half  hour,  I  stop  it,  by 
pulling  off  one  of  my  yellow  slippers,  and 
throwing  it,  with  all  my  violence,  to  the 
opposite  side  of  my  room,  with  a  declara- 
tion at  the  end  of  it — 

That  whatever  resemblance  it  may  bear 
to  half  the  chapters  which  are  written  in 
the  world,  or,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be 
now  writing  in  it,  that  it  was  as  casual  as 
the  foam  of  Zeuxis  his  horse  :  besides,  I 
look  upon  a  chapter  which  has  only  no- 
thing in  it,  with  respect ;  and  considering 
what  worse  things  there  are  in  the  world, 
that  it  is  no  way  a  proper  subject  for 
satire. 

Why  then  was  it  left  so?  And  here, 
without  staying  for  my  reply,  shall  I  be 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


67 


called  as  many  blockheads,  numsculls, 
doddypoles,  dunderheads,  ninnyhammers, 
goosecaps,  joltheads,  nincompoops,  and 
jackasses,  and  other  unsavory  appella- 
tions as  ever  the  cake-bakers  of  Lerne 
cast  in  the  teeth  of  King  Gargantua's 
shepherds ;  and  I'll  let  them  do  it,  as 
Bridget  said,  as  much  as  they  please  :  for 
how  Avas  it  possible  that  they  should  fore- 
see the  necessity  I  was  under  of  writing 
the  60th  chapter  of  my  book  before  the 
53rd?  &c. 

So  I  don't  take  it  amiss.  All  I  wish  is, 
That  it  may  be  a  lesson  to  the  world,  "  to 
kt  people "  tell  their  stories  their  own 
way.1' 


The  Fifty-third  Chapter. 

As  Mrs.  Bridget  opened  the  door  before 
the  corporal  had  well  given  the  rap,  the 
interval  betwixt  that  and  my  uncle  Toby's 
introduction  into  the  parlor  was  so  short, 
that  Mrs.  Wadman  had  but  just  time  to 
get  from  behind  the  curtain,  lay  a  Bible 
upon  the  table,  and  advance  a  step  or  two 
towards  the  door  to  receive  him. 

My  uncle  Toby  saluted  Mrs.  Wadman, 
after  the  manner  in  which  women  were 
saluted  by  men  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
God  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
thirteen;  then  facing  about,  he  marched 
up  abreast  with  her  to  the  sofa,  and  in 
three  plain  words,  though  not  before  he 
was  sat  down,  nor  after  he  was  sat  down, 
but  as  he  was  sitting  down,  told  her,  "  he 
was  in  love;"  so  that  my  uncle  Toby 
strained  himself  more  in  the  declaration 
than  he  needed. 

Mrs.  Wadman  naturally  looked  down 
upon  a  slit  she  had  been  darning  up  in 
her  apron,  in  expectation  every  moment 
that  my  uncle  Toby  would  go  on  ;  but 
having  no  talents  for  amplification,  and 
love,  moreover,  of  all  others,  being  a  sub- 
ject of  which  he  was  the  least  a  master ; 
when  he  had  told  Mrs.  Wadman  once  that 
he  loved  her,  he  let  it  alone,  and  left  the 
matter  to  work  after  its  own  way. 

My  father  was  always  in  raptures  with 
this  system  of  my  uncle  Toby's,  as  he 
falsely  called  it,  and  would  often  say, 
That  could  his  brother  Toby  to  his  pro- 
cess have  added  but  a  pipe  of  Tobacco,  he 
had  wherewithal  to  have  found  his  way, 
if  there  was  faith  in  a  Spanish  proverb, 


towards  the  hearts  of  half  the  women 
upon  the  globe. 

My  uncle  Toby  never  understood  what 
my  father  meant;  nor  will  I  presume  to 
extract  more  from  it  than  a  condemnation 
of  an  error  which  the  bulk  of  the  world 
lie  under :  but  the  French,  every  one  of 'em 
to  a  man,  who  believe  in  it  almost  as 
much  as  the  real  presence,  "  That  talking 
of  love  is  making  it." 

I  would  as  soon  set  about  making  a 
black-pudding  by  the  same  receipt. 

Let  us  go  on :  Mrs.  Wadman  sat  in  the 
expectation  my  uncle  Toby  would  do  so, 
to  almost  the  first  pulsation  of  that  min- 
ute, wherein  silence  on  one  side  or  the 
other  generally  becomes  indecent:  so 
edging  herself  a  little  more  towards  him, 
and  raising  up  her  eyes  sub-blushing,  as 
she  did  it,  she  took  up  the  gauntlet,  or  the 
discourse  (if  you  like  it  better),  and  com- 
muned with  my  uncle  Toby  thus : 

The  cares  and  disquietudes  of  the  mar- 
riage-state, quoth  Mrs.  Wadman,  are  very 
great.  I  suppose  so,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 
And  therefore  when  a  person,  continued 
Mrs.  Wadman,  is  so  much  at  ease  as  you 
are,  so  happy,  Captain  Shandy,  in  your- 
self, your  friends,  and  your  amusements, 
I  wonder  what  reasons  can  incline  you  to 
the  state. 

They  are  written,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby, 
in  the  Common  Prayer  Book. 

Thus  far  my  uncle  Toby  went  on  warily, 
and  kept  within  his  depth,  leaving  Mrs. 
Wadman  to  sail  upon  the  gulf  as  she 
pleased. 

As  for  children,  said  Mrs.  Wadman, 
though  a  principal  end,  perhaps  of  the 
institution,  and  the  natural  wish,  I  sup- 
pose, of  every  parent,  yet  do  not  we  all  find, 
they  are  certain  sorrows,  and  very  uncer- 
tain comforts?  and  what  is  there,  dear  Sir, 
to  pay  for  the  heart-aches !  what  com- 
pensation for  the  many  tender  and  dis- 
quieting apprehensions  of  a  suffering  and 
defenceless  mother,  who  brings  them  into 
life  ?  I  declare,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  smit 
with  pity,  I  know  of  none ;  unless  it  be 
the  pleasure  which  it  has  pleased  God — 

A  fiddle-stick  I  quoth  she. 


Chapter  the  Fifty-fourth. 

Now  there  are  such  an  infinitude  of 
notes,  tunes,  cants,  chants,  airs,  looks  and 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


accents  with  which  the  word  fiddlestick 
may  be  pronounced  in  all  such  cases  as 
this,  every  one  of  'em  impressing  a  sense 
and  meaning  as  different  from  the  other 
as  dirt  from  cleanliness,  that  casuists  (for 
it  is  an  affair  of  conscience  upon  that 
score)  reckon  up  no  less  than  fourteen 
thousand  in  which  you  may  do  either  right 
or  wrong. 

Mrs.  Wadman  hit  upon  the  fiddlestick 
which  summoned  up  all  my  uncle  Toby's 
modest  blood  into  his  cheeks ;  so  feeling 
within  himself  that  he  had  somehow  or 
other  got  beyond  his  depth,  he  stopped 
short ;  and  without  entering  further  either 
into  the  pains  or  pleasures  of  matrimony, 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  made 
an  offer  to  take  them  as  they  were,  and 
share  them  along  with  her. 

When  my  uncle  Toby  had  said  this,  he 
did  not  care  to  say  it  again ;  so  casting 
his  eye  upon  the  Bible,  which  Mrs.  Wad- 
man had  laid  upon  the  table,  he  took  it 
up  ;  and  popping,  dear  soul !  upon  a  pas- 
sage in  it,  of  all  other  the  most  interesting 
to  him,  which  was  the  siege  of  Jericho, 
he  sat  himself  to  read  it  over,  leaving  his 

Sroposal  of  marriage,  as  he  had  done  his 
eclaration  of  love,  to  work  with  her  after 
its  own  way.  Now  it  wrought  neither  as 
an  astringent  nor  a  loosener ;  nor  like 
opium,  nor  bark,  mercury,  nor  buckthorn 
nor  any  one  drug  which  Nature  had  be- 
stowed upon  the  world;  in  short,  it 
worked  not  at  all  in  her  :  and  the  cause  of 
that  was,  that  there  was  something  work- 
ing there  before.  Babbler  that  I  am  I  I 
have  anticipated  what  it  was  a  dozen 
times  ;  but  there  is  fire  still  in  the  sub- 
ject. Allans  I 


CHAPTER,  LXI. 

IT  is  natural  for  a  perfect  stranger  who 
is  going  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  to 
inquire,  before  he  sets  out,  how  many 
miles  to  York  ?  which  is  about  the  half- 
way :  nor  does  any  body  wonder,  if  he 
goes  on  and  asks  about  the  corporation,  &c. 

It  was  as  just  natural  for  Mrs.  Wadman, 
whose  first  husband  was  all  his  time 
afflicted  with  a  sciatica,  to  wish  to  know 
how  far  from  the  hip  to  the  groin ;  and 
how  far  she  was  likely  to  suffer  more  or 
less  in  her  feelings,  in  the  one  case  than 
in  the  other. 

She  had  accordingly  read  Drake's  Ana- 


tomy from  one  end  to  the  other.  She  had 
peeped  into  Wharton  upon  the  Brain,  and 
borrowed  Graaf1  upon  the  Bones  and 
Muscles ;  but  could  make  nothing  of  it. 

She  had  reasoned  likewise  from  her 
own  powers,  laid  down  theorems,  drawn 
consequences,  and  come  to  no  conclusion. 

To  clear  up  all,  she  had  twice  asked 
Doctor  Slop,  "If  poor  Captain  Shandy 
was  ever  likely  to  recover  of  his  wound?" 

He  is  recovered,  Doctor  Slop  would  say., 

What,  quite? 

Quite,  madam. 

But  what  do  you  mean  by  a  recovery  ? 
Mrs.  Wadman  would  say. 

Doctor  Slop  was  the  worst  man  alive  at 
definitions  and  so  Mrs.  Wadman  could 
get  no  knowledge.  In  short,  there  was 
no  way  to  extract  it,  but  from  my  uncle 
Toby  himself. 

There  is  an  accent  of  humanity  in  an 
inquiry  of  this  kind,  which  lulls  Suspicion 
to  rest :  and  I  am  half  persuaded  the  ser- 
pent got  pretty  near  it  in  his  discourse 
with  Eve :  for  the  propensity  in  the  sex 
to  be  deceived  could  not  be  so  great,  that 
she  could  have  boldness  to  hold  chat  with 
the  Devil  without  it.  But  there  is  an 
accent  of  humanity ;  how  shall  I  describe 
it?  'tis  an  accent  which  covers  the  part 
with  a  garment,  and  gives  the  inquirer  a 
right  to  be  as  particular  with  it  as  your 
body-surgeon. 

Was  it  without  a  remission?'1 

'  Was  it  more  tolerable  in  bed  ?  " 

'  Could  he  lie  on  both  sides  alike  with 
it?" 

Was  he  able  to  mount  a  horse? 

'Was  motion  bad  for  it?"  et  ccetera, 
were  so  tenderly  spoke  to,  and  so  directed 
towards  my  uncle  Toby's  heart,  that  every 
item  of  them  sunk  ten  times  deeper  into 
it  than  the  evils  themselves ;  but  when 
Mrs.  Wadman  went  round  about  by  Na- 
mur  to  get  at  my  uncle  Toby's  groin ;  and 
engaged  him  to  attack  the  point  of  the 
advanced  counterscarp,  and  pile  mgle  with 
the  Dutch,  to  take  the  counterguard  of 
St.  Roch  sword-in-hand,  and  then,  with 
tender  notes  playing  upon  his  ear,  led 
him,  all  bleeding,  by  the  hand  out  of  the 
trench,  wiping  her  eye  as  he  was  carried 
to  his  tent,  Heaven !  Earth !  Sea  I  all  was 
lifted  up,  the  springs  of  nature  rose  above 


1  This  mnit  l>e  a  mistake  in  Mr.  Shandy ;  for  Gnat 
wrote  upon  the  pancreatic  juice  and  the  part*  of  genera- 
tion. 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


fill 


their  levels,  an  angel  of  mercy  sat  beside 
him  on  the  sofa,  his  heart  glowed  with 
fire ;  and  had  he  been  worth  a  thousand, 
he  had  lost  every  heart  of  them  to  Mrs. 
Wadman. 

And  whereabouts,  dear  Sir,  quoth  Mrs. 
Wadman,  a  little  categorically,  did  you 
receive  this  sad  blow?  In  asking  this 
question,  Mrs.  Wadman  gave  a  slight 
glance  towards  the  waistband  of  my  un- 
cle Toby's  red  plush  breeches,  expecting 
naturally,  as  the  shortest  reply  to  it,  that 
my  uncle  Toby  would  lay  his  fore-finger 
upon  the  place.  It  fell  out  otherwise, 
for  my  uncle  Toby  having  got  his  wound 
before  the  gate  or  St.  Nicholas,  in  one  of 
the  traverses  of  the  trench  opposite  to 
the  salient  angle  of  the  demi-bastion  of 
St.  Roch,  he  could  at,  any  time  stick  a  pin 
upon  the  identical  spot  of  ground  where 
he  was  standing  when  the  stone  struck 
him.  This  struck  instantly  upon  my  un- 
cle Toby's  sensorium ;  and  with  it,  struck 
his  large  map  of  the  town  and  citadel  of 
Namur,  and  its  environs,  which  he  had 
purchased  and  pasted  down  upon  a  board, 
by  the  corporal's  aid,  through  his  long 
illness :  it  had  lain,  with  other  military 
lumber,  in  the  garret  ever  since ;  and  ac- 
cordingly the  corporal  was  detached  to 
the  garret  to  fetch  it. 

My  uncle  Toby  measured  off  thirty 
toises,  with  Mrs.  Wadman's  scissors,  from 
the  returning  angle  before  the  gate  of  St. 
Nicholas;  and  with  such  a  virgin  mod- 
esty laid  her  finger  upon  the  place,  that 
the  Goddess  of  Decency,  if  then  in  being 
— if  not,  'twas  her  shade — shook  her  head, 
and  with  a  finger  wavering  .across  her 
eyes,  forbade  her  to  explain  the  mistake. 

Unhappy  Mrs.  Wadman ! 

For  nothing  can  make  this  chapter  go 
off  with  spirit  but  an  apostrophe  to  thee : 
but  my  heart  tells  me,  that  in  such  a  cri- 
sis an  apostrophe  is  but  an  insult  in  dis- 
guise ;  and  ere  I  would  offer  one  to  a 
woman  in  distress,  let  the  chapter  go  to 
the  Devil;  provided  any  damned  critic 
in  keeping  will  be  but  at  the  trouble  to 
take  it  with  him. 


CHAPTER    LXII. 

MY  uncle  Toby's  map  is  carried  down 
into  the  kitchen. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

AND  here  is  the  Maes,  and  this  is  thi 
Sambre,  said  the  corporal,  pointing  with 
his  right  hand  extended  a  little  towards 
the  map,  and  his  left  upon  Mrs.  Bridget's 
shoulder,  but  not  the  shoulder  next  him  ; 
and  this,  said  he,  is  the  town  of  Namur, 
and  this  the  citadel,  and  there  lay  the 
French,  and  here  lay  his  honor  and  my- 
se'lf ;  and  in  this  cursed  trench,  Mrs.  Brid- 
get, quoth  the  corporal,  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  did  he  receive  the  wound  which 
crushed  him  so  miserably  here.  In  pro- 
nouncing which,  he  slightly  pressed  the 
back  of  her  hand  towards  the  part  he  felt 
for,  and  let  it  fall. 

We  thought,  Mr.  Trim,  it  had  been 
more  in  the  middle,  said  Mrs.  Bridget. 

That  would  have  undone  us  for  ever, 
said  the  corporal. 

And  left  my  poor  mistress  undone  too, 
said  Bridget. 

The  corporal  made  no  reply  to  the 
repartee,  but  by  giving  Mrs.  Bridget  a 
kiss. 

Come,  come,  said  Bridget,  holding  the 
palm  of  her  left  hand  parallel  to  the  piano 
of  the  horizon,  and  sliding  the  fingers  of 
the  other  over  it,  in  a  way  which  could  not 
have  been  done  had  there  been  the  least 
wart  or  protuberance— 'tis  every  syllable 
of  it  false,  cried  the  corporal,  before  she 
had  half  finished  the  sentence. 

I  know  it  to  be  a  fact,  said  Bridget, 
from  creditable  witnesses. 

Upon  my  honor,  said  the  corporal,  lay- 
ing his  "hand  upon  his  heart,  and  blush- 
ing as  he  spoke,  with  honest  resentment, 
't  is  a  story,  Mrs.  Bridget,  as  false  as  hell. 
Not,  said  Bridget,  interrupting  him,  that 
either  I  or  my  mistress  care  a  half-penny 
about  it,  whether  it  is  so  or  no ;  only  that 
when  one  is  married,  one  would  choose 
to  have  such  a  thing  by  one  at  least — 

It  was  somewhat  unfortunate  for  Mrs. 
Bridget,  that  she  had  begun  the  attack 
with  her  manual  exercise ;  for  the  corpo- 
ral instantly  *        *        *        * 
*        *        *        *        #        *       * 


CHAPTER    LXIV. 


IT  was  like  the  momentary  contest  In 
the  moist  eyelids  of 'an  April  morning, 
"  Whether  Bridget  should  laugh  or  cry." 

She  snatched  up  a  roliing-pin — 't  was 
ten  to  one  she  had  laughed. 


ro 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


She  laid  it  down — she  cried :  and  had 
one  single  tear  of  'em  but  tasted  of  bit- 
terness, full  sorrowful  would  the  corpo- 
ral's heart  have  been  that  he  had  used 
the  argument ;  but  the  corporal  under- 
stood the  sex,  a  quart  major  to  a  terce  at 
least,  better  than  my  uncle  Toby,  and  ac- 
cordingly he  assailed  Mrs.  Bridget  after 
this  manner : 

I  know,  Mrs.  Bridget,  said  the  corporal, 
giving  her  a  most  respectful  kiss,  that 
thou  art  good  and  modest  by  nature;  and 
art  withal  so  generous  a  girl  in  thy- 
self, that,  if  I  know  thee  rightly,  thou 
wouldst  not  wound  an  insect,  much  less 
the  honor  of  so  gallant  and  worthy  a  soul 
as  my  master,  wast  thou  sure  to  be  made 
a  countess  of;  but  thou  hast  been  set  on, 
and  deluded,  dear  Bridget,  as  is  often  a 
woman's  case,  "to  please  others  more 
than  themselves.'* 

Bridget's  eyes  poured  down  at  the  sen- 
sations the  corporal  excited. 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  then,  my  dear  Bridget, 
continued  the  corporal,  taking  hold  of  her 
hand,  which  hung  down  dead  by  her  side, 
and  giving  her  a  second  kiss,  whose  sus- 
picion has  misled  thee  ? 

Bridget  sobbed  a  sob  or  two,  then 
opened  her  eyes ;  the  corporal  wiped 
'em  with  the  bottom  of  her  apron ;  she 
then  opened  her  heart  and  told  him  all. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

MY  uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  had 
gone  on  separately  with  their  operations 
the  greatest  part  of  the  campaign,  and  as 
effectually  cut  off  from  all  communication 
of  what  either  the  one  or  the  other  had 
been  doing,  as  if  they  had  been  separated 
from  each  other  by  the  Maes  or  the 
Sambre. 

My  uncle  Toby,  on  his  side,  had  pre- 
sented himself  every  afternoon  in  his  red 
and  silver,  and  blue  and  gold,  alternately, 
and  sustained  an  infinity  of  attacks  in 
them,  without  knowing  them  to  be  at- 
tacks ;  and  so  had  nothing  to  communi- 
cate. 

The  corporal,  on  his  side,  in  taking 
Bridget,  by  it  gained  considerable  advan- 
tages and  consequently  had  much  to  com- 
municate; but  what  were  the  advan- 
tages, as  well  as  what  was  the  manner  by 
which  he  had  seized  them,  required  so 


nice  an  historian,  that  the  corporal  durst 
not  venture  upon  it ;  and  as  sensible  as 
he  was  of  glory,  would  rather  have  been 
contented  to  have  gone  bare-headed  and 
without  laurels  forever,  than  torture  his 
master's  modesty  for  a  single  moment. 

Best  of  honest  and  gallant  servants ! 
But  I  have  apostrophized  thee,  Trim, 
once  before ;  and  could  I  apotheosize  thee 
also  (that  is  to  say  with  good  company),  I 
would  do  it  without  ceremony  in  the  very 
next  page. 


CHAPTER    LXVI. 

Now  my  uncle  Toby  had  one  evening 
laid  down  his  pipe  upon  the  table,  and 
was  counting  over  to  himself,  upon  his 
fingers'  ends  (beginning  at  his  thumb), 
all  Mrs.  Wadman's  perfections,  one  by 
one ;  and  happening  two  or  three  times 
together,  either  by  omitting  some,  or 
counting  others  twice  over,  to  puzzle 
himself  sadly  before  he  could  get  beyond 
his  middle-finger,  Prithee,  Trim,  said  he, 
taking  up  his  pipe  again,  bring  me  a  pen 
and  ink.  Trim  brought  paper  also. 

Take  a  full  sheet,  Trim !  said  my  uncle 
Toby,  making  a  sign  with  his  pipe  at  the 
same  time  to  take  a  chair  and  sit  down 
close  by  him  at  the  table.  The  corporal 
obeyed,  placed  the  paper  directly  before 
him,  took  a  pen,  and  dipped  it  in  the  ink. 

She  has  a  thousand  virtues,  Trim !  said 
my  uncle  Toby. 

Am  I  to  set  them  down,  an'  please  your 
Honor?  quoth  the  corporal. 

But  they  must  be  taken  in  their  ranks, 
replied  my  uncle  Toby  ;  for  of  them  all, 
Trim,  that  which  wins  the  most,  and 
which  is  a  security  for  all  the  rest,  is  the 
compassionate  turn  and  singular  human- 
ity of  her  character.  I  protest,  added  my 
uncle  Toby,  looking  up,  as  he  protested 
it,  towards  the  top  of  the  ceiling,  that 
was  I  her  brother,  Trim,  a  thousand-fold, 
she  could  not  make  more  constant  or 
more  tender  inquiries  after  my  sufferings, 
though  now  no  more. 

The  corporal  made  no  reply  to  my  uncle 
Toby's  protestation,  but  by  a  short 
cough  :  he  dipped  the  pen  a  second  time 
into  the  inkhorn ;  and  my  uncle  Tobyv 
pointing  with  the  end  of  his  pipe  as  close 
to  the  top  of  the  sheet  at  the  left-hand 
corner  of  it  as  he  could  get  it,  the  corpo- 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY  AND  THE  WIDOW  WADMAN. 


71 


ral  wrote  down  the  word  HUMANITY 

thus. 

Prithee,  corporal,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
as  soon  as  Trim  had  done  it,  how  often 
does  Mrs.  Bridget  inquire  after  the  wound 
on  the  cap  of  thy  knee,  which  thou  re- 
ceivedst  at  the  battle  of  Landen  ? 

She  never,  an'  please  your  Honor,  in- 
quires after  it  at  all. 

That,  corporal,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
with  all  the  triumph  the  goodness  of  his 
nature  would  permit,  that  shows  the  dif- 
ference in  the  character  of  the  mistress 
and  maid.  Had  the  fortune  of  war  allot- 
ted the  «ame  mischance  to  me,  Mrs. 
Wadman  would  have  inquired  into  every 
circumstance  relating  to  it  a  hundred 
times.  She  would  have  inquired,  an' 
please  your  Honor,  ten  times  as  often 
about  your  Honor's  groin.  The  pain, 
Trim,  is  equally  excruciating,  and  Com- 
passion has  as  much  to  do  with  the  one 
as  the  other. 

God  bless  your  Honor,  cried  the  cor- 
poral, what  has  a  woman's  compassion  to 
do  with  the  wound  upon  the  cap  of  a 
man'a  knee?  Had  your  Honor's  been 
shot  into  ten  thousand  splinters  at  the 
affair  of  Landen,  Mrs.  Wadman  would 
have  troubled  her  head  as  little  about  it 
as  Bridget;  because,  added  the  corporal, 
lowering  his  voice,  and  speaking  very  dis- 
tinctly, as  he  assigned  his  reason, 

"  The  knee  is  such  a  distance  from  the 
main  body.  Whereas  the  groin,  your 
Honor  knows,  is  upon  the  very  curtain." 

My  uncle  Toby  gave  a  long  whistle; 
but  in  a  note  which  could  scarce  be  heard 
across  the  table. 

The  corporal  had  advanced  too  far  to 
retire ;  in  three  words  he  told  the  rest. 

My  uncle  Toby  laid  down  his  pipe  as 
gently  upon  the  fender  as  if  it  had  been 
spun  from  the  unravelling  of  a  spider's 
web. 

Let  us  go  to  my  brother  Shandy's,  said 
he. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

THERE  will  be  just  time,  whilst  my  uncle 
Toby  and  Trim  are  walking  to  my  father's, 
to  inform  you  that  Mrs.  Wadman  had, 
some  moons  before  this,  made  a  confidant 
of  my  mother;  and  that  Mrs.  Bridget, 
who  had  the  burden  of  her  own,  as  well 
as  her  mistress's  secret  to  carry,  had  got 


happily  delivered  of  both  to  Susannah, 
behind  the  garden-wall. 

As  for  my  mother,  she  saw  nothing  at 
all  in  it,  to  make  the  least  bustle  about ; 
but  Susannah  was  sufficient  by  herself  for 
all  the  ends  and  purposes  you  could  pos- 
sibly have,  in  exporting  a  family  secret ; 
for  she  instantly  imparted  it  by  signs  to 
Jonathan ;  and  Jonathan  by  tokens  to 
the  cook,  as  she  was  basting  a  loin  of 
mutton ;  the  cook  sold  it  with  some 
kitchen-fat  to  the  postillion  for  a  groat ; 
who  trucked  it  with  the  dairy-maid  for 
something  of  about  the  same  value  ;  and 
though  whispered  in  the  hay-loft,  Fame 
caught  the  notes  with  her  brazen  trum- 
pet, and  sounded  them  upon  the  house- 
top. In  a  word,  not  an  old  woman  in  the 
village,  or  five  miles  around,  who  did  not 
understand  the  difficulties  of  my  uncle 
Toby's  siege,  and  what  were  the  secret 
articles  which  had  delayed  the  surrender. 

My  father,  whose  way  was  to  force 
every  event  in  nature  into  an  hypothesis, 
by  which  means,  never  man  crucified 
Truth  at  the  rate  he  did,  had  but  just 
heard  of  the  report  as  my  uncle  Toby  set 
out ;  and  catching  fire  suddenly  at  the 
trespass  done  his  brother  by  it,  was  de- 
monstrating to  Yorick,  notwithstanding 
my  mother  was  sitting  by,  not  only  "  That 
the  Devil  was  in  women,  and  that  the 

whole  of  the  affair  was ,"  but  that 

every  evil  and  disorder  in  the  world,  of 
what  kind  or  nature  soever,  from  the  first 
fall  of  Adam,  down  to  my  uncle  Toby's 
(inclusive),  was  owing,  one  way  or  other, 
to  the  same  unruly  appetite. 

Yorick  was  just  bringing  my  father's 
hypothesis  to  some  temper,  when  my 
uncle  Toby  entered  the  room  with  marks 
of  infinite  benevolence  and  forgiveness  in 
his  looks,  seated  himself  by  the  fire,  and 
filled  his  pipe. 
******** 

END  OF  THE  COURTSHIP  OF  UNCLE  TOBY. 


A  REVEREND  gentleman  once  being  at 
the  house  of  a  fellow  clergyman,  who 
showed  him  a  library  in  many  lan- 
guages, asked  whether  he  understood 
them  all  ?  The  answer  being  in  the  affir- 
mative, he  rejoined,"  Then  verily,  brother, 
you  must  have  had  your  head  broken 
with  a  brick  from  the  tower  of  Babel." 


MONSIEUR  TONSON. 


MONSIEUR  TONSON. 

THERE  lived,  as  fame  reports,  in  days  of  yore, 
At  least  some  fifty  years  ago,  or  more, 
A  pleasant  wight  on  Town,  yclept  Tom 

King, 

A  fellow  that  was  clever  at  a  joke, 
Expert  in  alt  the  arts  to  tease  and  smoke ; 
In  short,  for  strokes  of  humor,  quite  the 
thing. 

To  many  a  jovial  club  this  King  was  known, 
With  whom  his  active  wit  unrivalled  shone : 

Choice  spirit,  grave  free-mason,  buck  and 

blood, 

Would  crowd  bis  stories  and  bon  mots  to  hear, 
And  none  a  disappointment  e'er  could*  fear, 

His  humor  flowed  in  such  a  copious  flood. 

To  him  a  frolic  was  a  high  delight : 

A  frolic  he  would  hunt  for,  day  and  night, 

Careless  how  prudence  on  the  sport  might 

frown. 

If  e'er  a  pleasant  mischief  sprang  to  view, 
At  once  o'er  hedge  and  ditch  away  he  flew, 

Nor  left  the  game,  till  he  had  run  it  down. 

One  night,  our  hero,  rambling  with  a  friend, 
Near  famed  St.  Giles's  chanced  his  course 

to  bend, 

Just  by  that  spot,  the  Seven  Dials  hight. 
'  T  was  silence  all  around,  and  clear  the  coast, 
The  watch,  as  usual,  dozing  on  his  post, 
And  scaroe  a  lamp  displayed  a  twinkling 
light. 

Around  this  place,  there  lived  the  numerous 

clans 
Of  honest,  plodding,  foreign  artizans, 

Known  at  that  time  by  name  of  refugees. 
The  rod  of  persecution,  from  their  home, 
Compelled  the  inoffensive  race  to  roam, 
And  here  they  lighted,  like  a  swarm  of 
bees. 

Well  I    our    two  friends    were  sauntering 

through  the  street, 
In  hopes  some  food  for  humor  soon  to  meet, 

When,  in  a  window  near,  a  light  they  view ; 
And,  though  a  dim  and  melancholy  ray, 
It  aeemed  the  prologue  to  some  merry  play, 
So  towards  the  gloomy  dome  our  hero 
drew. 

Straight  at  the  door  he  gave  a  thundering 

knock, 
(The  time  we  may  suppose  near  two  o'clock,) 


"  I'll  ask,  says  King,  "  if  Thompson  lodgei 

here."  " 
"  Thompson,"  cries  t'  other, ''  who  the  devil's 

he?" 

"  I  know  not,"  King  replies,  "  but  want  to  see 
What  kind  of  animal  will  now  appear." 

After  some  time,  a  little  Frenchman  came ; 
One  hand  displayed  a  rushlight:s  trembling 

flame, 

The  other  held  a  thing  they  called  culottc, 
An  old  striped  woolen  night-cap  graced  his 

head, 
A    tattered  waistcoat    o'er    one    shoulder 

spread  ; 
Scarce  half  awake,  he  heaved  a  yawning 

note. 

Though  thus  untimely  roused  he  courteous 

smiled, 

And  soon  addressed  our  wag  in  accents  mild, 

Bending  his  head  politely  to  his  knee — 

"  Pray,  sare,  vat  vant  you,  dat  you  come  so 

late? 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sare,  to  make  you  vait; 
Pray  tell  me,  sare,  what  your  commands 
vid  me  ?" 

"  Sir,"  replied  King,  "  I  merely  thought  to 

know, 
As  by  your  house  I  chanced  to-night  to  go, 

(But,  really,  I  disturbed  your  sleep,  I  fear,) 
I  say,  I  thought,  that  you  perhaps  could  tell, 
Among  the  folks  who  in  this  quarter  dwell, 

If  there's  a  Mr.  Thompson  lodges  here  ?" 

The    shivering    Frenchman,    though     not 

pleased  to  find, 
The  business  of  this  unimportant  kind, 

Too  simple  to  suspect  'twas  meant  in  jeer, 
Shrugged  out  a  sigh  that  thus  his  rest  was 

broke, 

Then,  with  unaltered  courtesy,  he  spoke  ; 
"No,  sare,  no  Monsieur  Tonson  lodges 
here." 

Our  wag  begged  pardon,  and  toward  home 

he  sped, 
While  the  poor  Frenchman  crawled  again 

to  bed. 
But  King  resolved  not  thus  to  drop  the 

jest, 
So,  the  next  night,  with  more  of  whim  than 

grace, 
Again  he  made  a  visit  to  the  place, 

To  break  once  more  the  poor  old  French 

man's  rest. 


MONSIEUR  TONSON. 


73 


He  knocked — but  waited  longer  than  before ; 
No  footsteps  seemed  approaching  to  the  door ; 

Our  Frenchman  lay  in  such  a  sleep  pro- 
found. 

King  with  the  knocker  thundered  then  again, 
Firm  on  his  post  determined  to  remain ; 

And  oft,  indeed,  he  made  the  door  resound. 

At  last  King  hears  him  o'er  the  passage 

creep, 
Wond'ring  what  fiend  again  disturbed  his 

sleep : 

The  wag  salutes  him  with  a  civil  leer : 
Thus  drawling  out  to  heighten  the  surprise, 
While   the   poor    Frenchman    rubbed    his 

heavy  eyes, 
"Is    there — a    Mr.    Thompson — lodges 

here?" 

The   Frenchman  faltered,  with  a  kind   of 
fright,— 

"  Vy,  sare,  I'm  sure  I  told  you,  sare,  last 

night — 

(And  here  he  labored   with  a  sigh  sin- 
cere,) 

"  No  Monsieur  Tonson  in  the  varld  I  know, 

JTo  Monsieur  Tonson  here — I  told  you  so  ; 
Indeed,  sare,  dare  no  Monsieur  Tonson 
here !" 

Some  more  excuses  tendered,  off  King  goes, 
And  the  old  Frenchman  sought  once  more 

repose. 
The  rogue  next  night  pursued  his  old 

career. 

'T  was  long  indeed  before  the  man  came  nigh, 
And  then  he  uttered  in  a  piteous  cry, 
"  Sare,  'pon  my  soul,  no  Monsieur  Tonson 
here !" 

Our  sportive  wight  his  usual  visit  paid, 
And  the  next  night  came  forth  a  prattling 

maid, 
Whose  tongue,  indeed,   than   any  Jack 

went  faster ; 

Anxious,  she  strove  his  errand  to  inquire, 
He  said  't  was  vain  her  pretty  tongue  to  tire, 
He  should  not  stir  till  he  had  seen  her 
master. 

The  damsel  then  began,  in  doleful  state, 
The  Frenchman's  broken  slumbers  to  relate, 
And  begged  he'd  call  at  proper  time  of 

day. 
King  told  her  she  must  fetch  her  master 

down, 

A.  chaise  was  ready,  he  was  leaving  town, 
But  first  had  much  of  deep  concern  to  say. 


Thus  urged,  she  went  the  snoring  man  to 

call, 

And  long,  indeed,  was  she  obliged  to  bawl, 
Ere  she  could  rouse  the  torpid  lump  of 

clay. 

At  last  he  wakes ;  he  rises  ;  and  he  swears : 

But  scarcely  had  he  tottered  down  the  stairs, 

When  King  attacked  him  in  his  usual  way. 

The  Frenchman  now  perceived  't  was  all  in 

vain 
To  his  tormentor  mildly  to  complain, 

And  straight  in  rage  began  his  crest  to 

rear : 

"  Sare,  vat  the  devil  make  you  treat  me  so  ? 
Sare,  I  inform  you,  sare,  three  nights  ago, 
Got  tarn — I  swear,  no  Monsieur  Tonson 
here !" 

True  as  the  night,  King  went,  and  heard  a 

strife 
Between  the  harassed  Frenchman  and  his 

wife, 
Which  would  descend  to  chase  the  fiend 

away. 

At  length,  they  join  their  forces  and  agree, 

And  straight  impetuously  they  turn  the  key, 

Prepared  with  mutual  fury  for  the  fray. 

Our  hero,  with  the  firmness  of  a  rock, 
Collected  to  receive  the  mighty  shock, 

Uttering  the  old  inquiry,  calmly  stood — 
The  name  of  Thompson  raised  the  storm  so 

high, 

He  deemed  it  then  the  safest  plan  to  fly, 
With  "  Well,  I'll  call  when  you're  in  gen- 
tler mood." 

In  short,  our  hero,  with  the  same  intent, 
Full  many  a  night  to  plague  the  Frenchman 

went — 

So  fond  of  mischief  was  the  wicked  wit : 
They  threw  out  water ;  for  the  watch  they 

call; 

But  King  expecting,  still  escapes  from  all- 
Monsieur  at  last  was  forced  his  house  to 
quit. 

It  happened  that  our  wag,  about  this  time, 
On   some  fair  prospect  sought  the  eastern 

clime, 
Six  lingering  years  were  there  his  tedious 

lot. 

At  length,  content,  amid  his  ripening  store, 

He  treads  again  on  Britain's  happy  shore, 

And  his  long  absence  is  at  once  forgot. 

To  London,  with  impatient  hope,  he  flies, 
And  the  same  night,  as  former  freaks  arisa, 


74 


A  BREVET  HORSE. 


He  fain  must  stroll,  the  well-known  haunt 

to  trace. 
"Ahl  here's  the  scene  of  frequent  mirth," 

he  said ; 

M  My  poor  old  Frenchman,  I  suppose,  is  dead. 

Egad,  I'll  knock,  and  see  who  holds  his 

place." 

With  rapid  strokes  he  makes  the  mansion 

roar, 

And  while  he  eager  eyes  the  opening  door, 
Lo !    who  obeys   the  knocker's    rattling 

peal? 
Why,  e'en  our  little  Frenchman,  strange  to 

say! 

He  took  his  old  abode  that  very  day — 
Capricious    turn  of    sportive    Fortune's 
wheel  1 

Without  one  thought  of  the  relentless  foe, 
Who,  fiend-like,  haunted  him  so  long  ago, 
Just  in  his  former  trim  he  now  appears  ; 
The  waistcoat  and  the  nightcap  seemed  the 

same, 

With  rushlight,  as  before,  he  creeping  came, 
And    King's    detested   voice   astonished 
hears. 

As  if  some  hideous  spectre  struck  his  sight, 

His  senses  seemed  bewildered  with  affright, 

His  face,  indeed,  bespoke   a   heart   full 

sore — 

Then  starting,  he  exclaimed,  in  rueful  strain, 
"  Begar !    here's    Monsieur    Tonson    come 

again !" 

Away  he  ran — and  ne'er  was  heard  of 
more! 

JOHW  TAYIOR,  b.  1769;  d  1S32. 


A  COUPLE  OF  BAD  BOYS. 

Miss  Clara  Morris  gives  this  lively 
reminiscence  of  two  well-known  actors  : 
"  They  were  boys  then  ;  one  tall,  blonde, 
and  lazy,  the  other  short,  dark,  and  ac- 
tive. It  was  Sunday  night ;  every  one 
had  gone  to  the  Quaker  meeting-house  a 
few  doors  above.  They  were  alone,  with- 
out cards  or  checkers  or  books,  but  Satan 
came  to  the  rescue.  A  certain  proposal 
was  drawled  by  the  long  chap,  and  eager- 
ly accepted  by  the  short  one.  They  then 
put  on  their  hats  and  coats,  armed  them- 
selves with  a  broom,  a  pail  of  water  and 
a  dipper,  and  went  forth  into  the  still  bit- 
ter cold  of  the  night,  and  worked  dili- 
gently. They  swept  a  broad  path  over 


the  sloping  sidewalk,  quite  free  from 
snow,  over  this  they  poured  a  dipper  of 
water,  then  waited.  In  a  few  minutes  it 
had  frozen  ;  then  another  dipper  of  water, 
and  another  wait,  until  the  path  was 
glass-like  in  its  icy  smoothness.  A  whisk 
of  the  broom  sent  a  light  covering  of  snow 
over  it ;  the  work  was  done,  and  the  god- 
less laborers,  gathering  up  their  tools, 
scrouged  themselves  down  on  the  door- 
step and  conversed  pleasantly.  Presently 
the  doors  of  the  meeting-house  opened, 
and  two  lines  of  Friends — one  made  up 
of  males,  the  other  of  females — came  out. 
These  lines,  coming  down  the  steps  sepa- 
rately, met  and  mingled  in  a  crowd  on 
the  pavement  for  a  few  moments,  then 
broke  into  twos  and  threes,  and  came 
gravely  down  the  sidewalk.  Suddenly 
the  stillness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  a 
whack !  whack !  and  two  snorts  that  were 
as  one.  A  female  Friend  flew  to  the 
rescue — whack  !  The  whole  congrega- 
tion, filled  with  wonder,  come  ambling 
down  to  the  scene  of  disaster — whack  I 
whack!  whack!  groans  and  snorts, 
'  thees '  and  '  thous  '  filled  the  air,  and 
with  cheeks  stained  with  tears  of  laugh- 
ter, they  sat  on  the  step  and  'took  it  in,' 
those  sons  of  Belial,  since  so  well  known 
to  the  world  as  Joseph  Jefferson  and 
John  Ellsler." 


A  BREVET  HORSE. 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  our  civil  war,  the 
government  became  somewhat  lavish  in 
the  bestowment  of  brevet-titles  upon  offi- 
cers of  the  army.  As  these  titles  ad- 
vanced the  rank  without  increasing  the 
pay  of  the  recipients,  this  sort  of  promo- 
tion had  the  two-fold  advantage  (from 
the  governmental  point  of  view)  of  gratify- 
ing the  ambition  of  the  officers  thereby 
distinguished  without  making  any  extra 
drafts  on  the  exchequer.  Now  as  soldiers, 
— especially  the  rank  and  file, — lead  a 
somewhat  monotonous  life,  the  men 
eagerly  seize  on  every  fresh  theme  of  con- 
rersation  ;  and  if  a  subject  is  capable  of 
being  presented  in  a  ludicrous  light,  some 
of  the  men  are  sure  to  make  it  serve  for 
their  amusement.  A  matter  of  such 
purely  military  interest  as  official  promo- 
tions, could  not,  of  course,  fail  of  com- 
ment around  the  mess-board  and  the 
camp  fire, — particularly  the  very  numer- 


A  SUCCESSFUL  TRICK. 


75 


ous  promotions  by  brevet,  which,  in  the 
estimation  of  some  of  the  "  boys  ''  were 
rather  empty  honors.  While  the  subject 
was  still  fresh,  a  brevet  lieutenant- 
colonel  of  recent  manufacture,  observing 
a  teamster  severely  beating  a  mule,  rode 
up  and  demanded  the  cause  of  his  rough 
treatment  of  the  animal.  The  teamster, 
with  a  roguish  twinkle  of  the  eye,  and  a 
side-glance  at  the  "boys'"  standing  near, 
replied  that  "this  plaguey  brevet-horse 
wouldn't  pull  worth  a  cent,  and  he  was 
just  bound  to  make  him."  As  the  brevet 
lieutenant-colonel  rode  away  reflectively 
he  fancied  he  heard  something  very  like 
the  sound  of  suppressed  laughter. 


THE  TROVERS. 

SALMON  of  forty  pounds'  weight  are 
sometimes  caught  in  Loch  Eck,  a  fact 
that  renders  the  little  inn  at  Whistlefield 
a  favorite  resort  of  solitary  anglers.  In 
reference  to  the  quondam  hostess  of  this 
inn,  a  celebrated  living  artist  and  enthu- 
siastic fisherman  tells  the  following  story : 

"  I  was  once  fishing  in  Loch  Eck,"  said 
the  artist,  "but  had  caught  nothing,  and 
on  my  arrival  at  Whistlefield,  very  hun- 
gry and  thirsty,  I  inquired  of  the  honest 
Highland  woman  who  keeps  the  place  if 
I  could  have  any  thing^  for  dinner. 

" '  Oo,  av ! '  she  replied, '  ony  thing  you 
like  to  order,  sir.' 

"'Well,  then,  can  you  let  me  have  a 
little  bit  of  salmon  or  a  trout?' 

'"A'm  vara  sorra,  but  there's  no  saa- 
mont  and  no  troot.  There  were  some  tro- 
vers (drovers)  here  yesterday,  and  they 
just  ate  up  a'  the  saamont  and  a'  the  troot. 
But  you  can  have  ony  thing  else  you  like.' 

'"Can  you  let  me  have  a  beefsteak?' 

"'It  is  beef  ye  ar'  askin'  for?  Beef? 
There's  na  beef;  do  you  think  we  can 
kill  a  coo?' 

"'Well,  mutton-chops  will  do  just  as 
well.' 

"'Chops!'  she  replied,  with  a  melan- 
choly whine ;  '  chops !  ye  might  hae  had 
chops,  only  ye  see  the  trovers  were  here 
yesterday  and  they  ate  up  a'  the  chops.' 

" '  You  don't  seem  to  have  very  much 
to  choose  from,  my  good  woman;  but 
perhaps  you  can  let  me  have  some  ham- 
and-eggs  or  bacon-and-eggs,  I  don't  care 
which?' 


" '  Ham-and-eggs !  Lord  save  us!  There's 
no  a  bit  ham  left  in  the  hoose.  The  tro- 
vers, ye  see — ' 

" '  Oh,  confound  the  trovers !  Can  you 
give  me  some  eggs  without  the  ham  ?' 

" '  'Deed,  sir,  that's  just  what  I  canna 
dae ;  the  trovers !  been !  they  're  hungry 
callants,  and  can  eat  mair  eggs  than  a' 
the  hens  in  the  country-side  can  lay. 
They  didna  leave  me  a  single  egg  for  my 
ain  supper  yesternight;  but  ye  can  hae 
ony  thing  else  ye  like  to  ca'  for.' 

" '  Suppose,  then,  as  you  have  no  eggs, 
that  you  thraw  (twist)  the  neck  of  the 
hen  that  laid  them.' 

" '  'Deed,  sir,  I  would  dae  that  right 
willingly,  but  the  trovers, — the  trovers! 
They  not  only  ate  up  a'  the  eggs,  but  the 
hen  and  the  cock  as  weel !' 

"  'Then  I  suppose  I  can  have  nothing, 
and  must  walk  on  to  Kilmun  ?' 

"  '  Na,  na !  Wat  for  should  ye  do  that  ? 
There's  plenty  in  the  hoose,  if  ye  wad  but 
just  say  what  ye  want.' 

"'Plenty  of  what?' 

" '  Plenty  of  cake'  (oat-cake), '  and  but- 
ter, an'  a  bit  o'  ewe-milk  cheese,  and  wus- 
key  (whisky)  enough  to  soom  (swim)  in.' 

"  So  I  took  the  oat-cake,  and  the  fresh 
butter,  and  the  whisky ;  and  I  advise  no- 
body to  expect  any  thing  else  at  a  High- 
land village." 


A  SUCCESSFUL  TRICK. 

A  DUBLIN  merchant  named  Johnson 
was  very  hard  on  his  clerks,  and  when  a 
visitor  left  the  store  without  a  purchase 
he  would  discharge  the  clerk.  He  took 
up  a  position  near  the  door,  and  as  cus- 
tomers passed  out  would  inquire  if  they 
had  been  properly  served.  On  one  occa- 
sion a  lady  was  negotiating  with  a  clerk 
for  a  shawl,  but  the  sale  was  not  made. 
The  clerk  called  the  lady's  attention  to 
the  old  gentleman,  who  was,  as  usual, 
standing  near  the  door,  waiting  to  waylay 
the  old  lady  with  the  customary  question. 
"  That  old  man,"  said  the  clerk,  "  is  crazy. 
He  may  attempt  to  stop  you  as  you  go 
out,  and  you  had  best  avoid  him  as  he  is 
sometimes  dangerous."  The  lady  started 
for  the  door,  and  as  the  old  gentleman 
approached  her,  gave  a  shriek  and  darted 
out.  Johnson  was  greatly  astonished, 
and  walking  back  to  the  clerk  asked :  "  Do 


r« 


1  THE  PENNY  YE  MEANT  TO  GI'E." 


you  know  that  lady?"  "No,  sir,"  re- 
plied the  clerk,  "but  I  think  she  is  crazy." 
"  You  are  right,"  returned  the  old  gentle- 
man. "  she  must  be  crazy." 


"DON'T  TALK  TILL  YE  SEE  FLYNN." 

ME.  PETERS  has  a  tailor,  named  Tim- 
othy Flynn,  in  his  employ.  The  domestic 
affairs  of  Timothy  and  his  wife  are  not 
conducted  with  harmony.  Broken  heads 
and  dismembered  articles  of  furniture  fre- 
quently attest  this  fact.  Mrs.  Flynn  usu- 
ally accompanies  Timothy  when  he  goes 
to  the  office  on  Saturday  evenings  to  draw 
his  wages,  and  as  there  is  a  difference  of 
opinion  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Flynn  as 
to  which  of  them  has  the  right  to  assume 
the  responsibilities  of  the  position  of  fi- 
nancial agent  of  the  family,  the  proceed- 
ings are  often  of  a  tumultuous  nature. 
Last  Monday,  Timothy  did  not  come  to 
work.  On  Tuesday,  Mr.  Peters  went  to 
his  house  to  see  him.  He  met  Mrs.  Flynn 
at  the  door.  A  black  eye,  a  bruised  nose 
and  a  triumphant  smile  were  her  most 
prominent  features.  "You  seem  to  have 
been  having  a  devil  of  a  time,  Mrs. 
Flynn,"  said  Mr.  Peters;  "you  are  all 

broken  up.    Has "    "  Don't  talk,  Mr. 

Pethors.    Lord  love  ye,  don't  talk  till  ye 
Bee  Flynn." 


"  THE  PENNY  YE  MEANT  TO  GI'E." 

THERE'S  a  funny  tale  of  a  stingy  man, 
Who  was  none  too  good,  but  might  have 
been  worse, 

Who  went  to  his  church,  on  a  Sunday  night, 
And  carried  along  his  well-filled  purse. 

When  the  sexton  came  with  his  begging- 
plate, 
The  church  was  but  dim  with  the  candle's 

light ; 
The   stingy  man  fumbled  all  through  his 

purse, 
And  chose  a  coin  by  touch,  and  not  sight. 

It's  an  odd  thing,  now,  that  guineas  should 

be 

So  like  unto  pennies  In  shape  and  size. 
*  I'll  give  a  penny,"  the  stingy  man  said : 
"  The  poor  must  not  gifts  of  pennies  des- 
pise.'' 


The  penny  fell  down  with  a  clatter  and 

ring! 
And  back  in  his  seat  leaned  the  stingy 

man, 
"  The  world  is  so  full  of  the  poor,"''   he 

thought : 

"I  can't  help  them  all — I  give  what  I 
can." 

Ha,  ha  I  how  the  sexton  smiled,  to  be  suref 
To  see  the  gold  guinea  fall  into  his  plate ' 

Ha,  ha !  how  the  stingy  man's  heart  was 

wrung, 
Perceiving  his  blunder,  but  just  too  late ! 

"  No  matter,"  he  said  :  "  in  the  Lord's  ac- 
count 

That  guinea  of  gold  is  set  down  to  me. 
They  lend  to  him  who  give  to  the  poor : 

It  will  not  so  bad  an  investment  be." 

"  Na,  na,  mon,"  the  chuckling  sexton  cried 

out: 
"  The  Lord  is  na  cheated — He  kens  thee 

well ; 
He  knew  it  was  only  by  accident 

That  out  o'  thy  fingers  the  guinea  fell ! 

"  He  keeps  an  account,  na  doubt,  for  th» 

puir: 
But  in  that  account  He'll  set  down  to 

thee 

Na  mair  o'  that  golden  guinea,  my  mon, 
Than  the  one  bare  penny  ye  meant  to 
gi'e." 

There's  a  comfort,  too,  in  the  little  tale — 
A  serious  side  as  well  as  a  joke  ; 

A  comfort  for  all  the  generous  poor, 
In  the  comical  words  the  sexton  spoke  ; 

A  comfort  to  think  that  the  good  Lord 
knows 

How  generous  we  really  desire  to  be, 
And  will  give  us  credit  in  His  account 

For  all  the  pennies  we  long  "  to  gi'e." 


In  a  parliamentary  canvass  for  West- 
minster, Charles  James  Fox  being  a  can- 
didate, asked  a  blunt  citizen  for  his  vote. 
He  received  the  following  answer : — "  Mr. 
Fox,  I  admire  your  head,  but  damn  your 
heart."  To  which  Fox  immediately  re- 
torted "Sir,  I  admire  your  candor,  but 
damn  your  manners." 


HOW  HE  STOPPED  CHEWING. 


77 


HOW  HE  STOPPED  CHEWING. 

SMIKES  made  up  his  mind  to  stop 
chewing.  He  never  was  much  of  a  chew- 
er,  anyhow,  he  said.  He  had  n't  used 
tobacco  but  for  a  few  years,  and  rarely 
consumed  more  than  an  ounce  paper  in  a 
day.  But  he  feared  the  habit  might  get 
hold  of  him  and  become  fixed,  and  if 
there  was  anything  he  abhorred  it  was  to 
see  a  man  become  a  slave  to  a  bad  habit. 
He  had  used  the  weed  some,  to  be  sure, 
but  there  had  never  been  a  time  during 
the  last  ten  years  when  he  could  not  stop 
at  any  moment.  But  so  long  as  he  did 
not  become  habituated  to  its  use,  he  did 
not  care  to  stop.  He  could  break  it  off 
at  any  minute,  and  it  was  a  great  satis- 
faction to  feel  so. 

Thompson,  he  thought,  was  an  abject 
slave  to  his  pipe.  He  pitied  Thompson, 
for  he  had  seen  Thompson  try  to  stop 
smoking  several  times,  and  fail  ignomin- 
iously  every  time  he  undertook  it.  But 
Smikes  wanted  to  show  his  wife  how  easy 
he  could  quit.  So  Monday  morning  he 
remarked  carelessly  to  Samantha  that  he 
guessed  he  would  stop  using  tobacco.  Sa- 
mantha said  she  was  glad  of  it,  and  added 
impetuously,  what  she  had  never  said  be- 
fore— that  it  was  a  vile  habit.  Smikes 
appeared  a  little  nervous  and  confused 
when  Samantha  said  this,  and  mumbled 
out  something  about  being  glad  that  he 
had  never  got  into  it  himself.  In  his 
agitation  he  pulled  out  his  tobacco  box 
and  was  about  to  take  a  chew,  when  he 
recollected  himself  and  plunged  out  of 
the  door,  forgetting  his  umbrella. 

About  halfway  to  the  office  he  met  Jones, 
with  whom  he  was  having  some  business 
transactions.  While  they  were  talking  the 
thing  over,  Smikes  got  a  little  enthusias- 
tic, and  he  had  almost  reached  the  office 
before  he  noticed  that  he  was  rolling  an 
uncommonly  plump  quid  around  his 
mouth  like  a  sweet  morsel.  How  it  got 
there  Smikes  did  not  know.  He  puzzled 
over  that  little  thing  all  the  rest  of  the 
forenoon,  and  at  last  he  took  it  out  of  his 
mouth  and  threw  it  away,  satisfied  that 
he  must  have  taken  it  while  talking  with 
Jones.  Twice  that  afternoon  Smikes  took 
out  his  tobaccorbox  and  looked  at  it.  Once 
he  took  off  the  cover,  and  smelled  of  the 
tobacco.  It  smelt  so  good  that  Smikes 


felt  impelled  to  remark  to  himself  that  it 
was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  stop 
chewing. 

He  congratulated  himself  again  and 
again  that  day  that  he  did  not  become 
entangled  in  the  meshes  of  the  filthy  vice, 
and  he  alluded  to  the  matter  three  or  four 
times  that  evening  at  the  tea-table,  till 
Samantha  marvelled  greatly  at  the  firm- 
ness of  Smikes.  She  had  always  heard, 
she  said,  that  it  was  a  hard  thing  to  leave 
off.  But  Smikes  had  told  her  and  kept 
telling  her  that  it  was  "just  as  easy,"  and 
her  reverence  for  the  virile  strength  and 
independence  of  character  of  Smikes 
grew  like  a  gourd.  That  night  Smikes 
had  the  night-mare.  He  thought  that  a 
legion  of  foul  fiends  had  got  him  up  in  a 
corner  of  the  back  yard,  and  had  rolled 
upon  his  belly  a  monstrous  quid  of  "fine 
cut,"  as  large  around  as  a  cart-wheel,  and 
that  they  were  trying  to  force  it  into  his 
mouth. 

Smikes  struggled  vigorously,  and  when 
Samantha  shook  him  and  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter,  his  only  reply  was  that 
"  anybody  could  stop  chewing  if  they  only 
made  up  "their  mind  to  it."  The  next  day 
Smikes  was  a  little  nervous.  He  told 
everybody  who  came  in  what  a  simple 
thing  it  was  to  stop  chewing.  TLe  third 
day  he  harped  about  it  all  day  long.  He 
told  one  man  about  it  three  different 
times,  and  when  that  much-informed  in- 
dividual ventured  the  opinion  that  he 
would  be  chewing  again  in  less  than  a 
week,  Smikes  indignantly  ejaculated: 
"  Mr.  Jenkins,  when  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  a  thing  that  is  the  last  of  it. ' 

The  fourth  day  Smikes  heard  that 
chamomile  blossoms  were  sometimes  used 
as  a  substitute  for  tobacco,  and  just  out 
of  curiosity  he  devoured  a  couple  of 
ounces  of  them.  He  said  to  the  druggist 
when  he  bought  them,  that  it  was  easy 
enough  to  stop  the  use  of  tobacco.  On 
the  fifth  day  Smikes  got  sick.  His  nerves 
gave  out.  He  snapped  something  at  Sa- 
mantha at  the  breakfast  table,  upset  his 
inkstand,  burnt  his  fingers  poking  some 
cinders  out  of  the  grate,  and  had  no  ap- 
petite for  dinner.  That  day  the  devil 
whispered  to  Smikes  that  tobacco  was 
really  beneficial  to  some  temperaments. 
Smikes  had  a  temperament  of  that  kind. 

The  sixth  day  Smikes  felt  like  a  mur- 
derer. He  seemed  to  himself  to  have  be- 
come transformed  into  a  Modoc.  flii 


78 


THE  VICAR  OF  BRAY. 


mouth  was  dry  and  parched.  A  stout 
healthy-looking  old  gentleman  came  into 
Smikes's  office  that  day.  He  was  a  grea 
friend  of  Smikes,  and  he  drew  forth  his 
silver  tobacco-box  and  daintily  shook  oul 
a  small  portion  of  the  pungent  weed 
Smikes  felt  his  mouth  water.  He  re- 
marked to  Mr.  Johnson  that  he  Lad  no: 
chewed  any  for  six  days,  and  that  he  hac 
refrained  so  long  just  to  satisfy  himsel: 
that  anybody  could  chew  or  leave  it  alone 
He  was  fully  satisfied  that  it  could  be 
done,  but  he  rather  thought  that  his  was 
one  of  those  temperaments  that  are  really 
acted  upon  in  a  beneficial  way  by  the 
temperate  use  of  tobacco. 

Mr.  Johnson  said  he  thought  so  too, 
and  as  he  handed  Smikes  his  box,  re- 
marked that  he  had  chewed  regularly  for 
thirty  years,  and  didn't  know  as  it  had 
ever  damaged  him  any.  As  Smikes  rolled 
a  large  quid  back  into  his  left  cheek,  he 
said  he  thought  there  was  a  great  differ- 
ence in  men.  He  was  satisfied  that  he 
could  stop  chewing  at  any  moment,  but 
there  were  some  temperaments  to  which  a 

fentle   narcotic  or  opiate  was  really  a 
leasing. — Saratogian. 


THE   VICAR  OF  BRAY.1 

IN  good  King  Charles's  golden  days, 

When  loyalty  no  harm  meant, 
A  zealous  high  churchman  was  I, 

And  so  I  got  preferment. 
To  teach  my  flock  I  never  miss'd 
Kings  were  by  God  appointed, 
And  lost  are  those  that  dare  resist 
Or  touch  the  Lord's  anointed. 
And  this  is  law  that  I  '11  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 

When  royal  James  possessed  the  crown, 

And  popery  grew  in  fashion, 
The  penal  laws  I  hooted  down, 

And  read  the  Declaration : 
The  Church  of  Rome  I  found  would  fit 

Full  well  my  constitution ; 

>  In  Berkshire.  Nichols  eayg,  in  his  Select  Poems, 
that  the  song  of  the  Vicar  of  Bray  "  was  written  by  a 
soldier  in  Colonel  Fuller'*  troop  of  Dragoons,  in  the 
r»lgn  of  George  L" 


And  I  had  been  a  Jesuit, 
But  for  the  Revolution. 

And  this  is  law  that  I'll  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 

When  William  was  our  king  declar'd, 

To  ease  the  nation's  grievance, 
With  this  new  wind  about  I  steer'd, 

And  swore  to  him  allegiance. 
Old  principles  I  did  revoke, 

Set  conscience  at  a  distance ; 
Passive  obedience  was  a  joke, 
A  jest  was  non-resistance. 

And  this  is  law  that  I  '11  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 

When  royal  Anne  became  our  queen, 

The  Church  of  England's  glory, 
Another  face  of  things  was  seen, 

And  I  became  a  Tory : 
Occasional  conformists  base, 
I  blam'd  their  moderation, 
And  thought  the  church  in  danger  was, 
By  such  prevarication. 

And  this  is  law  that  I  '11  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 

When  George  in  pudding-time  came  o'er 

And  moderate  men  look'd  big,  sir, 
My  principles  I  chang'd  once  more, 

And  so  became  a  Whig,  sir ; 
And  thus  preferment  I  procur'd 

From  our  new  faith's  defender : 
And  almost  every  day  abjured 
The  Pope  and  the  Pretender. 

And  this  is  law  that  I  '11  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  air. 

The  illustrious  house  of  Hanover, 

And  Protestant  succession, 
To  these  I  do  allegiance  swear — 

While  they  can  keep  possession  : 
?or  in  my  faith  and  loyalty, 

I  never  more  will  falter, 
And  George  my  lawful  king  shall  be— 
Until  the  times  do  alter. 

And  this  is  law  that  I  '11  maintain 

Until  my  dying  day,  sir, 
That  whatsoever  King  shall  reign, 
Still  I  '11  be  the  vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 


THE  JACKDAW. 


79 


BLUCHER  AND   HIS  PIPE-BEARER 
AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  WATERLOO. 

OLD  Field-Marshal  Bliicherwaa  partic- 
ularly fond  of  three  things — a  glass  of 
wine,  a  game  at  cards,  and  a  pipe  of  tobac- 
co. With  the  two  former  he  was  frequently 
obliged  to  dispense,  but  he  could  not  and 
would  not  do  without  the  latter,  nor 
could  he  help  indulging  in  smoking,  if  it 
were  ever  so  little,  before  he  undertook 
anything  serious.  A  few  puffs  at  the  spur 
of  the  moment  would  satisfy  him,  but  to 
be  without  them  at  all  was  a  matter  of 
impossibility.  For  this  purpose  he  had 
appointed  as  his  pipe-bearer  one  of  his 
"  boys  "  (as  he  used  to  call  his  hussars), 
a  fellow-countryman  from  Rostock — 
Christian  Hennemann — who  had  charge 
of  a  large  box  of  common  long  Dutch 
clay  pipes,  all  filled  with  tobacco,  and 
ready  for  use  at  a  moment's  notice.  This 
box  constituted  the  principal  item  of  the 
marshal's  field  equipage.  Hennemann 
was  so  devoted  to  his  master  and  his 
charge,  that  he  would  have  killed  on  the 
spot  any  one  who  attempted  to  purloin  a 
pipe  from  the  box,  or  bring  the  latter  in 
danger  of  breaking  some  of  the  precious 
(to  him  sacred)  contents. 

On  the  morning  of  the  memorable  bat- 
tle of  Waterloo,  Hennemann  had  just 
handed  his  master  a  lighted  pipe,  when  a 
cannon-ball  struck  the  ground  close  by, 
scattering  earth  and  gravel  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  causing  the  white  charger  on 
which  Bliicher  was  mounted  to  spring 
aside — a  manoeuvre  that  broke  the  pipe 
into  a  thousand  pieces  before  the  owner 
had  time  even  to  lift  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Just  keep  a  lighted  pipe  ready  for 
me ;  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  moments, 
after  I  have  driven  away  the  rascally 
French  churls.'1  With  these  words, 
Bliicher  gave  the  command,  "  Forward, 
boys  I "  and  off  he  galloped  with  his  cav- 
alry. Instead,  however,  of  a  chase  of  a 
few  minutes,  it  was  a  rapid  march  of 
nearly  a  whole  hot  summer  day,  as  we 
all  know  from  history. 

After  the  battle  was  over,  Blucher  rode 
back  with  Wellington  to  the  place  where 
he  first  got  a  glimpse  of  the  combating 
armies,  and  n earing  the  spot  where 
Blucher  had  halted  in  the  morning,  they 
MW  to  their  surprise  a  solitary  man,  his 


head  tied  with  a  handkerchief,  one  arm 
in  a  sling,  and  calmly  smoking  a  pipe  I 

"  Donner  und  blitz  ! "  cried  Blucher, 
"  why,  that  is  my  Hennemann.  How 
you  look ,  boy ;  what  are  you  doing  here 
alone  ?  " 

"  Waiting  for  your  speedy  return,"  was 
the  grumbling  answer.  "  You  have  come 
at  last !  I  have  waited  for  you  here,  pipe 
in  mouth,  for  the  whole  long  day.  This 
is  the  last  pipe  in  the  box.  The  cursed 
French  have  shot  away  every  pipe  from 
my  mouth,  have  ripped  the  flesh  from  my 
head,  and  shattered  my  arm  with  their 
deuced  bullets.  It  is  well  there  is  an 
end  to  the  battle,  or  you  would  have  been 
too  late  even  for  the  last  pipe."  Saying 
which,  he  handed  to  Blucher  the  pipe,  to 
enjoy  the  remaining  fumes  of  the  weed. 

Wellington,  who  had  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  conversation,  here  remarked 
to  Blucher,  "You  have  just  admired  the 
unflinching  loyalty  and  bravery  of  my 
Highlanders,  what  shall  I  say  to  this  true 
and  devoted  soul  ?  " 

"  But  your  Highlanders  had  no  pipes 
to  regale  themselves  with." 

Dfc.  MlCHF.LSEN,  b.  1801. 


THE   JACKDAW. 

THERE  is  a  bird,  who,  by  his  coat, 
And  by  the  hoarseness  of  his  note, 

Might  be  supposed  a  crow ; 
A  great  frequenter  of  the  church, 
Where,  bishop-like,  he  finds  a  perch, 

And  dormitory  too. 

Above  the  steeple  shines  a  plate, 
That  turns  and  turns,  to  indicate 

From  what  point  blows  the  weather ; 
Look  up — your  brains  begin  to  swim, 
'T  is  in  the  clouds — that  pleases  him, 

He  chooses  it  the  rather. 

Fond  of  the  speculative  height, 
Thither  he  wings  his  airy  flight, 

And  thence  securely  sees 
The  bustle  and  the  raree-show, 
That  occupy  mankind  below, 

Secure  and  at  his  ease. 

You  think,  no  doubt,  he  sits  and  muse* 
On  future  broken  bones  and  bruisea, 
If  he  should  chance  to  fall. 


80 


AN  IRRESISTIBLE  APPEAL. 


No  ;  not  a  single  thought  like  that 
Employs  his  philosophic  pate, 
Or  troubles  it  at  alL 

He  sees  that  this  great  round-about, 
The  World,  with  all  its  motley  rout, 

Church,  army,  physic,  law, 
Its  customs,  and  its  businesses, 
Is  no  concern  at  all  of  his, 

And  says — what  says  he  ? — Caw. 

Thrice  happy  bird !  I  too  have  seen 
Much  of  the  vanities  of  men ; 

And,  sick  of  having  seen  'em, 
Would  cheerfully  these  limbs  resign 
For  such  a  pair  of  wings  as  thine, 

And  such  a  head  between  'em. 

WILLIAM  COWP«B,  1731-1800. 


ly,  "  Very  well,  Mac  Stringer,  I  consent." 
And  she  gave  him  a  rose. 


A  BRIEF  COURTSHIP. 

HERE  is  a  Scotch  romance  : 

"  That  bear !  "  muttered  to  herself  a 
bonnie  lassie  at  about  forty-seven  and 
three-quarters,  as  she  fled  from  a  public 
flower  garden  at  the  approach  of  a  man 
of  fifty-two  and  seven-eighths,  who  was 
noted  for  saying  bitter  things  of  the  other 
sex. 

"  What  did  you  run  for?  "  said  a  gruff 
voice  behind  her. 

"  To  get  rid  of  you." 

"  You  did  n't  do  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"No;  you  are  worse  than  a  pitch 
plaster." 

"  You  won't  get  rid  of  me,  either." 

"  I  won't,  eh  ?  " 

"  Only  in  one  way." 

"And  that?" 

"  Marry  me." 

"What!  us  two  fools  get  married! 
What  would  people  say  ?  " 

"  That 's  nothing  to  us.  Come,  say  yes 
or  no.  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  Well,  no,  then." 

"Very  well,  good-by,"  the  male  ex- 
claimed. "  It 's  your  last  offer  in  this 
life." 

The  lady  was  disconcerted  at  the  idea. 
She  thought,  and  replied  softly,  "  Stop  a 
bit." 

"Yes  or  no?" 

"  I  must  consult — " 

*'  All  right ;  I  thought  you  were  of  age 
Good-by." 

After  second  thoughts,  she  said  bland- 


THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  THE 
FERRYMAN. 

A  PHILOSOPHER  stepped  on  board  a 
boat  to  cross  a  stream ;  on  the  passage 
he  inquired  of  the  ferryman  if  he  under- 
stood arithmetic.  The  man  looked  aston- 
ished : 

"  Arithmetic  ?  No,  sir ;  never  heard  of 
it  before." 

The  philosopher  replied :  "  I  am  very 
sorry,  for  one-quarter  of  your  life  is  gone." 

A  few  minutes  after,  he  asked  the  fer- 
ryman: "Do  you  know  anything  of 
mathematics  ?  " 

The  boatman  smiled,  and  replied: 
"  No." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  philosopher, 
"  another  quarter  of  your  life  is  gone." 

A  third  question  was  asked  the  ferry- 
man, "  Do  you  understand  astronomy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing."' 

"  Well,  my  friend,  then  another  quar- 
ter of  your  life  is  gone." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  boat  ran  on  a 
rock.  The  ferryman  jumped  up,  pulling 
off  his  coat,  and  asked  the  philosopher, 
"  Sir,  can  you  swim  ?  " 

"  No,''  said  the  philosopher. 

"  Then,"  shouted  the  ferryman,  "  your 
whole  life  is  gone,  for  the  boat  is  going  to 
the  bottom." 


AN  IRRESISTIBLE  APPEAL. 

ON  one  of  the  anchor  line  boats  the 
other  day  was  a  young  man  of  decent 
look  but  a  good  deal  the  worse  for  whis- 
key. He  persisted  in  singing  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  and  it  was  the  poorest  kind 
of  singing.  After  a  brief  pause  he  re- 
moved his  hat  and  said,  "  Now,  I'm 
going  to  sing  something  sad."  Hadn't 
you  as  soon  wait  until  we  get  to  Vicks- 
burg?"  inquired  a  passenger.  "  Wh — • 
what  f'r?"  gasped  the  young  man. 
"  Because  I  have  got  a  young  mule  on 
the  lower  deck,  and  if  he  gets  an  idea 
that  he  can  sing  as  good  as  you  do,  he'll 
never  be  worth  a  nickel  to  bray  I  "  There 
was  no  more  singing. 


TIM  PRICE'S  RAM. 


TIM  PRICE'S  RAM. 

BY    TOBE    HODGE. 

"  Ho,  Colonel !  Ho,  there  !  Don't  git 
over  them  bars.  Stop  thar,  or  you'll  git 
butted  wuss  nor  a  mule  kickin'.  My 
buck  mutton's  out !  "  yelled  Tim  Price,  as 
he  came  hurriedly  out  of  his  cabin,  with 
an  alarmed  look,  hatless,  shoeless,  arid 
followed  by  his  dog  Spider  and  a  crowd  of 
youngsters. 

Tim  never  was  seriously  earnest  in  his 
life,  and  the  truth  seldom  escaped  from 
him;  but  to  give  color  to  his  caution  a 
fine  ram  stood  some  distance  off  with  his 
head  toward  me,  and  as  I  never  had  heard 
of  a  decision  being  rendered  on  that 
famous  subject  so  long  agitating  Georgia 
debating  schools,  "  Which  am  de  butt  end 
ob  a  ram?"  I  concluded  to  remain  in 
doubt  myself  about  it  and  stay  on  the 
right  side  of  the  fence  until  Tim  came. 

"  I'm  powerful  glad  I  seed  you  comin'. 
He  kep'  Seth  Jones  treed  up  thet  bar 
post  three  mortal  hours  t'other  arternoon, 
an'  him  a  puttin'  in  a  lick  once  in  a  bit 
ter  kinder  show  Seth  what  he'd  git  if  he' 
come  down.  I  kep'  the  childern  aback 
the  cabin  with  me,  a  lookin'  thro'  the 
chinks  to  see  Seth  a  shakin'  every  lick  he 
hit,  an'  a  hollerin'  fer  me,  and  swearin'. 
Thar  he  sot,  perched  up  on  the  pint  uv 
the  post,  oncomfortable  like  as  a  fish  on 
a  gig,  squirmin'.  Arter  'bout  three  hours 
treein'  an'  him  gittin'  weak,  an'  the  ram 
knocken'  two  bar  holes  inter  one,  I 
thought  'twas  fun  enough  ;  an'  I  lets  on  to 
be  jist  come  in  from  the  clearin',  an'  I 
says  :  '  Ho  Seth  1  what  you  doin'  up  thar, 
any  way  ! '  an'  say  he  :  I  jist  got  up  fer  to 
look  'round  ter  see  if  I  kin  see  you.  I've 
been  hollerin'  fer  you.  I  wish  you'd  step 
this  way,  Tim,  I  want  ter  ax  you  'bout 
somethin'.' 

" '  Well,  git  down,'  I  says,  '  an'  come 
inter  the  cabin.'  '  I  hain't  time,'  he  says. 
Jest  come  yer,  an'  he  kep'  lookin'  as  if 
he'd  never  seed  the  ram,  as  innercent  like 
as  my  dog  Spider  arter  stealin'  the  old 
woman's  cookens.  An'  he  seed  I  weren't 

§om  ter  let  him  down  till  he  owned  up. 
o  say  he — letten  on  ter  see  the  buck  for 
the    fust  time — '  Why  thar's    yer    buck 
mutton,  hain't  he  ?     Drive  him  off,  Tim, 
or  I'll  jump  on  him.'     '  Jump  ahead,'  I 

VOL.    II.— W.  H. 


says :  '  ef  the  pesky  critter  will  stan' 
round  butten  at  bar'  posts  for  fun  he 
must  expect  to  be  jumped  onter.  Jump 
on  him,  Seth,  dem  him.'  But  Seth,  he 
jist  perched  higher,  fer  the  ram  gin  an 
all-fired  lick  at  the  post.  He  sot  his  head 
back  two  inches  that  day.  an'  sprained 
one  of  his  hoofs  toein'  fur  hard  licks. 

"  Bymebye  Seth  says,  awful  solemn 
like  :  '  Tim,  I'm  powerful  feered  of  hydro- 
phoby,  an'  people  say  yer  buck  mutton's 
got  it.  Skeer  him  off,  do.'  So  I  sicked 
Spider  at  him,  an'  Seth  he  got  down,  an' 
yer  ought  ter  see  him  runnin!.  He  never 
said  what  he'd  come  fer. 

"  I  allus  lets  Spider  do  the  managin'  ov 
him.  I  can't  conshusly  do  nothin'  with 
him.  Spider  jist  backs  away  from  him 
outer  the  way  ov  licks,  an'  the  ram  follers. 
I've  knowed  him  to  take  him  more'n 
three  mile  an'  a  quarter  thataway,  au' 
then  scoot  hum,  leavin'  the  buck  madder'n 
ever  at  bein'  fooled  so. 

"  While  back,  them  railroad  ingineers 
was  spyen  'long  yere,  an'  every  feller  in 
the  kentry  was  'long  ter  hev  it  run  just 
whar  he  wanted  it,  an'  ter  give  'pinions 
like.  The  peoples  yerabouts  staid  high 
on  the  fences,  'cause  they  knowed  the 
meanness  of  my  buck  critter ;  but  a  feller 
with  a  spyen  machine  gits  right  inter  my 
medder,  an'  plump  inter  the  middle  on  it, 
an'  spreads  out  a  pinted,  three-legged  con- 
sarn  he  had,  with  a  surveyin'  compass 
onter  it,  an'  goes  to  winden  on  her  up.  I 
seed  the  ram  a-lookin'  at  him  from  a 
jinin'  patch,  an'  thinks  I,  thar'll  be  fun 
about  all  them  legs  in  a  minute ;  for  the 
feller  didn't  treat  me  right  no  way  when 
I  was  'lowen'  to  him  whar  the  road 
oughter  go. 

He  got  it  sot,  an'  wound  up  an'  were 
a  spyen  at  a  feller  with  a  red  pole  'way 
down  yonder,  an'  he  took  out  his  wiper 
an'  give  it  a  shake,  an'  hollers  '  all  right.' 
But  it  wasn't.  The  ram  he  seed  it,  an'  he 
come  as  straight  as  a  rock  at  a  barbecue. 
An'  the  fellers  hollered  '  Look  out ! '  an' 
the  spyen  man  he  looked  'round  kinder 
slow  an'  cool-like  ter  see  what  was  goin' 
on,  an'  Lord  !  he  seed  it  was  him. 

"The  buck  was  a-comin'  jumpin'  an* 
buttin',  fer  practice  like — as  ef  it  were 
tryin'  ter  knock  a  hole  in  all  out-doors. 
The  man  jest  gathered  them  five  legs — 
three  of  the  machine's  an'  two  of  his'n — 
quicker  nor  you  kin  shy  a  hymn-book  at 
a  preacher,  an'  struck  fer  the  fence.  But 


LOGIC— OR  THE  HORSE  CHESTNUT. 


'twere  too  late.  The  ram  was  inter  him, 
an'  yer  mought  have  h*ered  him  mixiu' 
his  head  with  them  legs  fer  a  mile. 

"  He  smashed  some  uv  them  brass 
tricks  out  agin  that  feller  as  flat's  a  batter 
cake — ef  he  didn't  I'll  eat  the  greaser — 
an'  he  bent  up  the  spyin'  machine  so  yer 
couldn't  hev  run  a  race  course  or  a  circus 
track  with  it — 'twere  too  crooked  fer 
that. 

"The  feller  hollered,  an'  every  time 
he'd  git  on  his  bans  an'  knees  the  ram 
was  ready  agin,  an'  socked  him  down,  an' 
kep'  a  standin'  lookin'  'round  fer  some- 
thin'  ter  hit,  agin  the  feller  come  ter 
time.  Soon's  I  could  git  my  buryin' 
face  on,  I  takes  Spider  in  ter  whar  the 
fuss  wuz  goin'  on,  an'  he  coaxed  him  clar 
over  ter  Pinch  Holler,  thet's  better  nor 
two  miles. 

"  When  I  gethered  the  feller  up,  he  was 
as  nigh  onter  what  you  Eastern  fellers 
tells  'bout  sea  pukes,  as  I  reckon  I'll  ever 
see,  bein'  so  far  from  the  big  water.  An' 
when  we  stripped  him  ter  docter  him  up, 
thar,  right  on  his  back,  were  the  print  uv 
the  hull  derned  pints  uv  the  compass 
north  and  south,  east  and  west,  an'  the 
divisions  jist  as  plain  as  big  day  light, 
derned  ef  they  wasn't  an'  I  picked  the 
compass  needle  out  urhim,  an'  hitpintin' 
to  the  west,  a  little  nor' — not  speakin'  uv 
two  screws  an'  right  smart  glass.  Ef  ther 
wasn't,  may  I  never!  The  feller  said  he 
were  wuss  than  a  torpedy,  for  he  never 
stopped  goin'  off. 

"  T'other  day  I  went  out  thar  whar  you 
see  the  choppin'  block  to  git  a  bit  uv 
wood  for  the  old  woman,  an'  I  seed  the 
buck  a  standin'  lookin'  at  me  choppin', 
an'  he  kep'  gittin'  nigher  an'  nigher,  an' 
thinks  I,  my  ole  mutton,  I'll  larn  yer 
somethin'  ef  yer  goes  buttin'  at  me. 
Every  time  I  fetched  down  the  ax,  down 
ud  go  his  head  as  ef  he  wanted  ter  try  a 
'bout  with  it,  an'  gin  it  a  butt  like,  an' 
it  were  too  much  fer  him.  He  lets  go  his 
holt  on  the  ground  an'  comes  in  flyin', 
an'  I  jist  hauled  off  an'  fetched  the  ax 
down  on  his  for'head  hard  as  I  could  lick, 
coz  I  didn't  keer  whether  I  did  kill  him 
—he  were  fat — an'  jist  as  sure  as  I'm 
tellin'  yer,  Colonel,  he  turned  the  edge  uv 
thet  ax  back  two  inches  an'  a  bit.  Ef  he 
didn't  I'll  eat  the  hannel,  an'  I  hev  the 
hannel  yit.  I  saved  myself  runnin'  inter 
the  cabin  before  he  could  stop  an'  git 
back." 


LOGIC, 

OR   THE    HORSE    CHESTNUT. 

AN  Eton  stripling,  trained  to  the  law, 
A  dunce  at  Syntax,  but  a  dab  at  taw, 
One  happy  Christmas  laid  upon  the  shelf 
His  cap  and  gown  and  store  of  learned  p«lf 
By  invitation,  thought  he'd  take  a  roam, 
To  spend  a  fortnight  at  his  uncle's  home  ; 
Arriv'd,  and  pass'd  the  usual  how-d'ye-do's, 
Enquiries  for  old  friends  and  college  news  : 
"  Well,  Tom,  the  road,  what  saw  you  worth 

discerning  ? 
How  goes  study — what  is  it  you're  learn- 

ing  ?" 

"  Oh,  logic,  sir  ;  but  not  the  shallow  rules 
Of  Locke  and  Bacon,  antiquated  fools  I 
'Tis  wit   and   wrangler's   logic  ;  thus,   d'ye 

see? 

I'll  prove  to  you  as  plain  as  A  B  C, 
That  an  eel-pie's  a  pigeon  ;  to  deny  it, 
Were  to  say  black  is  not  black."     "  Come. 

try  it." 

"  An  eel-pie  is  a  pie  offish.1'     "  Agreed." 
"  Fish-pie  may  be  ^ac^-pie."     "  Well,  pro- 
ceed." 

"  A  jack-pie  is  a  John-pie  ;  and  'tis  done, 
For  every  John-pie  must  be  a  pie- John  /" 

(pi-geon) 

"  Bravo  !"  Sir  Peter  cries,  ''  logic  for  ever  1 
That  beats  my  grandmother,  and  she  was 

clever. 
But  hold,  my  boy,  since  now  it  would  be 

hard 

That  wit  and  learning  should  have  no  re- 
ward, 

To-morrow,  for  a  stroll,  the  park  we'll  cross, 
And  then  I'll  give  thee— "  }<  What  ?"    "  My 

chestnut  horse  /" 
"  A  horse?"  quoth  Tom,  "  blood,  pedigree, 

and  paces  1 

Oh,  what  a  dash  I'll  cut  at  Epsom  races  !" 
To  bed  he  went ;  and   slept  for  downright 

sorrow, 
That  night  must  go   before   he'd   see   the 

morrow : 
Dreamt  of  his  boots  and  spurs,  and  leather 

breeches  ; 
Hunting   of   cats,   and   leaping  rails    and 

ditches. 

He  left  his  rest  an  hour  before  the  lark ; 
And  dragg'd  his  uncle,  fasting,  to  the  park. 
Halter  in    hand,  each   vale   he    scour'd.  at 

loss 
To  spy  out  something  like  a  chestnut  huise. 


JOE  HATCH. 


f3ut  no  such  animal  the  meadows  cropt. 

At  length,  beneath  a  tree,  Sir  Peter  stopt ; 

A  branch  he  caught,  then  shook  it,  and 
down  fell 

A  fine  horse  chestnut,  in  its  prickly  shell. 

"  There,  Tom,  take  that."  "  Well,  sir,  and 
what  beside  ?" 

"  Why,  since  you're  booted,  saddle  it  and 
ride." 

"Bide  what?  a  chestnut  I" — "Aye,  come, 
get  across ; 

I  tell  you,  Tom,  that  chestnut  is  a  horse. 

And  all  the  horse  you'll  get ;  for  I  can  shew 

As  clear  as  sun-shine,  that  'tis  really  so  : 

Not  by  the  musty,  fusty,  worn-out  rules 

Of  Locke  and  Bacon,  addle-headed  fools  ! 

Or  old  Malebranche,  blind  pilot  into  knowl- 
edge; 

But  by  the  laws  of  wit  and  Eton  College. 

All  axioms  but  the  wranglers' I'll  disown  ; 

And  stick  to  one  sound  argument,  your  own. 

Thus  now,  you've  proved  it,  as  I  don't  deny, 

That  a  Pie- John's  the  same  as  a  John-Pie; 

What  follows  then? — why,  as  a  thing  of 
course, 

That  a  horse  chestnut  is  a  chestnut  horse." 


AN  INCIDENT  OP    TYRONE    POW- 
ER'S VISIT  TO  PITTSBURGH 
IN  1832. 

FROM     TVROME     POWER'S   IMPB1B8IONS   OF   AMERICA. 

THE  first  white  man  born  west  of  the 
Alleghany  is  atill  living ;  by  the  way,  a 
whimsical  anecdote  relating  to  this  gen- 
tleman is  current  in  Pittsburgh,  and 
which  I  here  relate  as  I  myself  received 
it. 

At  a  public  dinner,  Mr.  R the  per- 
son alluded  to,  being  present,  had  his 
health  proposed  and  cordially  drunk  as 
"  the  first  white  man  born  west  of  the 

Alleghany."  Now,  Mr.  R happening 

to  be  very  dark  complexioned,  a  waggish 
Irishman,  who  was  seated  next  to  him, 
could  not  help  adding,  with  a  sly  air, 
having  repeated  the  toast,  "  and  not  par- 
ticularly white  either." 

"Why  that's  very  true,1' returned  the 
subject  of  the  jest,  with  much  good  humor, 
"  and  the  reason  assigned  for  the  exceed- 
ing redness  of  my  skin  is  in  itself  not  a 
little  illustrative  of  the  recent  condition 
of  our  country,  which  is  in  fact  the  true 
•abject  of  this  toast. 


"  Shortly  after  my  father  had  located 
his  family  on  the  Ohio,  my  mother  was, 
whilst  in  the  act  of  fetching  water  from 
the  stream  a  little  way  outside  the  stock- 
ade within  which  our  dwelling  stood, 
startled  by  the  near  whoop  of  an  Indian 
warrior,  and,  on  raising  her  head,  per- 
ceived close  beside  her,  a  chief  of  the 
neighboring  tribe ;  she  instantly  fled  like 
a  deer;  and  being  young  and  active 
gained  the  shelter  of  the  stockade,  within 
which,  however,  she  fell  exhausted,  but 
was  so  preserved.  Some  time  after  I  was 
ushered  into  life ;  and  the  darkness  of  my 
complexion  was  always  referred  to  the 
fact  of  my  mother  having  been  frightened 
and  followed  by  the  young  Indian.1' 

"And  a  mighty  natural  mode  of  ac- 
counting for  the  same,"  replied  Pat ;  ad- 
ding with  a  most  provoking  air  of  sim- 
plicity, "  but,  may  I  ask,  did  you  ever 
hear  your  poor  mother  say  whether  the 
Indian  overtook  her  or  not?" 


JOE  HATCH. 

(From  one  of  Charles  Mathews,  the  Elder's,  Entertain- 
ments). 

"  Waterman,1'  said  Mr.  Barnacle,  a 
Yorkshire  gentleman,  "  what  is  your  fare 
— that  is,  your  strict  fare  to  Battersea?  " 
"  Half-a-crown,  your  honour."  "  Half-a- 
crown ;  why  I  thought  it  was  but  three- 
pence, I  think  it  was  so  once  ? '"  "  That's 
the  wherry  question  I  vos  litigating  fore 
and  aft,  afore  Sir  Richard  last  week.  '  Sir 
Richard,'  says  I,  '  it's  wherry  true  and 
perfectly  incomprehensible,  too,  that  the 
strict  fare  atwixt  bridge  and  bridge  is  but 
thruppence,  but  then  that  ere  applies  afore 
bridges  were  built,  and,  therefore,  doesn't 
come  vithin  the  meaning  of  the  statee' 
Now,  you  see,  Sir  Richard  know'd  the 
competency  of  that  ere  remark,  but  then 
he  didn't  vant  to  know  it ;  so  says  he  to 
me,  '  Draw  in  your  jawing  tackle  a  bit,  vill 
you,  Master  Joe  Hatch,'  or  vords  equiver- 
lent  to  that  ere  effect ;  but,  howsomdever, 
that  vos  the  sinnification  on  'em.  But, 
though  he  told  me  to  pull  in  my  oar  ever 
so  many  times,  I  carried  the  pint  o'  the 
law  slap  in  the  vind's  teeth  agin  him  !  " 
"  Oh,  then  I  suppose  you  were  summoned, 
Mr.  Waterman  ?  "  "  Summonsed !  O  no, 
your  honour,  leave  Joe  Hatch  alone  for 


JOE  HATCH. 


that  ere !  You  see,  von  Jack  Cox,  a  bro- 
ther vaterman,  vos  lugged  up  afore  the 
bench,  for  charging  a  gemman  a  hog  for 
taking  him  off  to  a  steamer — and  wherry 
right,  too,  for  if  a  man's  boat  arn't  his 
castle,  it's  wherry  odd,  blow  me!  But, 
Lord  love  you,  I  dares  to  say,  as  how  you 
doesn't  know  who  I  am."  "  Why,  no,  my 
good  fellow,  I  can't  say  I've  that  pleasure." 
"Vy,  Lord  love  your  silly  head,  vy,  I 
thought  everybody  know'd  me !  Vy,  my 
name's  Joe  Hatch — I  settles  all  disputes 
and  fights  on  the  water,  from  Greenwich 
to  Battersea ;  some  on  'em  calls  me  the 
Boat  Barrister,  and  others  say  as  I'm  the 
River  Chanceller !  But  that's  all  along  o' 
my  being  a  chief  abroad  for  so  many 
years ! ''  "  You  a  chief  abroad !  "  "Aye, 
I  a  chief  abroad ;  vy,  Lord  love  you,  I 
married  a  princess.  Look  here — (shewing 
his  forehead,)  look  at  this."  "Aye,  I  see, 
all  over  in  a  crackling,  like  a  piece  of 
pork ! "  "  That's  vhere  I  was  tartoo'd :  all 
prickled  in  vi'  needles,  and  colour'd  vi' 
bilberry  juice !  "  "  You  seem  a  strange 
sort  of  character,  and  I  should  like  to  hear 
a  little  of  your  history."  "  Wherry  veil, 
then  you  shall  have  the  whole  true  and 
particlier  account  as  ve  goes  up  the  vater. 
Now,  boy,  lug  in  the  boat  there,  vill  you  ? 
(  Yes,  yes.)  Now  then  be  seated,  gentle- 
men. You  must  know  that  about  fifteen 
years  ago.  I  vos  wreck'd  on  the  Tonga 
Islands,  aboard  a  vhaler  ;  where  I  taught 
the  natives,  poor  ignorant  indiwidivals, 
the  polite  arts,  so  the  King  Kikeekuron- 
kikokoko,  (for  that  vos  his  name,)  took  a 
great  liking  to  me,  and  made  me  chief  o' 
six  hatchets  "— "  I  think  you  seem  to  be 
throwing  one  o'  them  hatchets  now."  "  No 
I  arn't,  your  honour,  leave  me  alone  for 
that  ere.  You  see  a  chief  o'  six  hatchets 
in  them  ere  parts,  is  similar  to  a  duke  in 
these  here.  Veil,  the  King  says  to  me, 
von  day,  says  he,  for  ve  vos  wherry  fa- 
miliar, and  larnt  von  another's  lingo  abit. 
'  Joe,'  says  he,  '  vill  you  marry  my  darter, 
the  Princess  Hookihokikokipoki  ?  '  '  Vy, 
your  majesty,'  says  I,  '  I'm  perfectly  vill- 
ing,  perwiding  the  young  'oman's  agreea- 
ble." So,  wi'  that  ere,  he  called  vot  they 
called  a  palaver,  which  is  a  similar  sort  o' 
thing  to  our  parliament  here ;  (and  a 
wherry  black  affair  it  is,  by  the  bye,)  they 
all  met  in  a  ring — such  a  lot  o'  black  pud- 
ding-lipp'd  looking  covies;  at  first  they 
couldn't  agree — ( don't  fall  out  here,  gem- 
men) — at  last  they  did  agree ;  so  the  prin- 


cess and  I've  jumped  over  a  bamboo  to- 
gether, a  fashion  similar  to  the  English 
vay  of  jumping  over  the  broomstick !  A 
sort  o'  way  they  has  o'  getting  sweet  upon 
von  another  by  jumping  over  sugar  canes  I 
She  vos  a  wherry  fine  'oman — a  capital 
sort  o'  'oman — she  vos  a  sort  o'  black- 
brown  muddy-coloured  'oman !  She  had 
a  remarkable  small  nose — it  vosn't  a  nose 
neither — she  had  two  holes  instead  of  a 
nose,  but  vhich  answered  all  the  same 
purposes  ;  and  just  below  them  two  holes, 
vos  another  hole — only  a  large  von — vhich 
served  for  a  mouth — it  vos  like  an  annual 
lease — reach'd  from  ear  to  ear  !  Vhen  she 
laugh'd,  her  head  vos  above  half  off — it 
held  by  a  little  at  the  back,  like  a  backy- 
box.  Then  inside  o'  that  ere  mouth  vos 
a  tongue,  and  that  tongue  look'd  for  all 
the  vorld  like  a  toad  looking  out  of  a 
blacking-bottle.  Then,  her  ears — you 
should  have  seen  her  ears — they  look'd 
just  like  two  ha'pporths  of  dog's  meat. 
She  vos  a  sweet  'oman — a  clever  'oman 
too ;  she'd  been  a  wherry  great  warrior — 
she'd  killed  sixty  men  in  battle  vi'  her  own 
hands,  and  vore  all  their  double  teeth 
round  her  neck  by  vay  of  a  necklace. 
That  was  pretty  nearly  all  the  clothes  she 
wore ;  so  her  wardrobe  wasn't  werry  ex- 
pensive. Ve  lived  in  a  deal  of  harmony 
too ;  ve  killed  our  own  hogs ;  ve  chew'd 
all  our  own  tabacca ;  and  laid  all  our  own 
eggs — and  sharp  vork  ve  had  of  it  too ; 
and  then  ve  used  to  valk  out  together  in 
the  hot  veather — a  pretty  figure  ve  cut 
too.  I  used  to  look  along  side  o'  her  like 
a  pound  o'  long  butter,  a  valking  along 
side  o'  five  feet  and  a  half  o'  black  pud- 
ding. But  you  see  them  ere  pleasures 
couldn't  last  for  ever,  for  the  King's  nevy, 
von  Flibbetyflobbetybuskybango — for  that 
vos  his  name,  he  got  gallows  (jealous)  o' 
me  ;  for  he  saw  the  signs  o'  the  haccession 
vos  in  me — a  young  piccaninny  in  the 
shape  of  a  Joe  Hatch  vos  a  coming.  Now, 
he  didn't  like  the  idea  o'  that — nor  I 
didn't  like  the  idea  o'  being  grilled  and 
tomahawked  for  their  breakfasts  some 
morning,  so  I  cut  and  run  off  by  the  first 
ship,  and  here  I  am — and  here  ve  are  at 
Battersea — my  fare,  gemmen,  amounts  to 
half-a-crown." 


JOSH  BILLINGS  thinks  his  worst  habit 
is  the  coat  he  bought  at  Poughkeepsie. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PUDDING. 


S3 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PUDDING. 

(From  the  Reminitcences  of  Henry  Angela,) 

Some  years  ago  I  made  another  ex- 
cursion to  Scotland,  with  the  intention  of 
completing  my  series  of  views,  and  went 
over  the  same  ground  described  by  the 
i  earned  tourists,  Dr.  Johnson  and  Bos- 
svell.  Being  in  the  habit  of  taking  very 
long  walks  on  these  occasions,  and  per- 
ceiving a  storm  threaten,  I  made  the  best 
of  my  way  to  a  small  building.  I  arrived 
in  time  at  a  neat  little  inn,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  a  respectable-looking  man  and 
his  wife,  who  did  all  in  their  power  to 
make  me  comfortable.  After  eating  some 
excellent  fried  mutton  chops,  and  drink- 
ing a  quart  of  ale,  I  asked  the  landlord  to 
sit  down,  and  partake  of  a  bowl  of  whiskey 
punch.  I  found  him,  as  the  Scotch  gene- 
rally are,  very  intelligent,  and  full  of 
anecdote,  of  which  the  following  may 
serve  as  a  specimen  : 

"  Sir,"  said  the  landlord,  "  this  inn  was 
formerly  kept  by  Andrew  Macgregor,  a 
relation  of  mine ,  and  these  hard-bottomed 
chairs  (in  which  we  are  now  sitting)  were, 
years  ago  filled  by  the  great  tourists,  Dr. 
Johnson  and  Boswell,  travelling  like  the 
lion  and  jackal.  Boswell  generally  pre- 
ceded the  doctor  in  search  of  food,  and 
being  much  pleased  with  the  look  of  the 
house,  he  followed  his  nose  into  the 
larder,  where  he  saw  a  fine  leg  of  mutton. 
He  ordered  it  to  be  roasted  with  the 
utmost  expedition,  and  gave  particular 
orders  for  a  nice  pudding.  "  Now,1'  says 
he,  "  make  the  best  of  all  puddings." 
Elated  with  his  good  luck,  he  immediately 
went  out  in  search  of  his  friend,  and  saw 
the  giant  of  learning  slowly  advancing  on 
a  pony.  "  My  dear  sir,"  said  Boswell,  out 
of  breath  with  joy,  "good  news!  I  have 
just  bespoke,  at  a  comfortable  clean  inn 
here,  a  delicious  leg  of  mutton ;  it  is  now 
getting  ready,  and  I  flatter  myself  we  shall 
make  an  excellent  meal."  Johnson  looked 
pleased — "And,  I  hope,"  said  he,  "you 
have  bespoke  a  pudding."  "  Sir,  you  will 
have  your  favourite  pudding,'1  replied  the 
other. 

Johnson  got  off  his  pony,  and  the  poor 
animal,  relieved  from  the  giant,  smelt  its 
way  into  the  stable.  Boswell  ushered  the 
doctor  into  the  house,  and  left  him  to  pre- 
pare for  his  delicious  treat.  Johnson, 


feeling  his  coat  rather  damp,  from  the 
mist  of  the  mountains,  went  into  the 
kitchen  and  threw  his  upper  garment  on 
a  chair  before  the  fire :  he  sat  on  the  hob, 
near  a  little  boy  who  was  very  busy 
attending  the  meat.  Johnson  occasionally 
peeped  from  behind  his  seat,  while  the 
boy  kept  basting  the  mutton.  Johnson 
did  not  like  the  appearance  of  his  head ; 
when  he  shifted  the  basting  ladle  from 
one  hand,  the  other  hand  was  never  idle, 
and  the  doctor  thought  at  the  same  time 
he  saw  something  fall  on  the  meat;  upom 
which  he  determined  to  eat  no  mutton  on 
that  day.  The  dinner  announced,  Boswell 
exclaimed,  "  My  dear  doctor,  here  comes 
the  mutton ;  what  a  picture !  done  to  a 
turn,  and  looks  so  beautifully  brown  !  " 
The  doctor  tittered.  After  a  short  pause, 
Boswell  said — 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  I  am  to  carve  as  usual ; 
what  part  shall  I  help  you  to  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Bozzy,  I  did  not  like  to  tell 
you  before,  but  I  am  determined  to  ab- 
stain from  meat  to-day." 

"  Oh,  dear !  this  is  a  great  disappoint- 
ment," said  Bozzy. 

"Say  no  more,  I  shall  inake  myself 
ample  amends  with  the  pudding." 

Boswell  commenced  the  attack,  and 
made  a  first  cut  at  the  mutton.  "  How 
the  gravy  runs  ;  what  fine  flavoured  fat — 
so  nice  and  brown  too.  Oh,  sir,  you 
would  have  relished  this  prime  piece  of 
mutton." 

The  meat  being  removed,  in  came  the 
long-wished-for  pudding.  The  doctor 
looked  joyous,  fell  eagerly  to,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  nearly  finished  all  the  pud- 
ding. The  table  was  cleared,  and  Boswell 
said — "  Doctor,  while  I  was  eating  the 
mutton,  you  seemed  frequently  inclined 
to  laugh  ;  pray  tell  me  what  tickled  your 
fancy  ?  " 

The  doctor  then  literally  told  him  all 
bhat  had  passed  at  the  kitchen  fire,  about 
the  boy  and  the  basting.  Boswell  turned 
as  pale  as  a  parsnip,  and,  sick  of  himself 
and  the  company,  darted  out  of  the  room. 
Somewhat  relieved,  on  returning,  he  in- 
sisted on  seeing  the  dirty  little  rascally 
Doy,  whom  he  severely  reprimanded  be- 
"ore  Johnson.  The  poor  boy  cried :  the 
doctor  laughed. 

"You  little,  filthy,  snivelling  rascal," 
said  Boswell,  "  when  you  basted  the  meat, 
why  did  you  not  put  on  the  cap  I  saw  yo» 
m  this  morning  ?  " 


86 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  ASYLUM  FOR  AGED  AND  DECAYED  PUNSTERS. 


"  I  couldn't  sir,"  said  the  boy. 

"  No,  why  couldn't  you  ?  "  said  Boswell. 

"  Because  my  mammy  took  it  from  me 
to  boil  the  pudding  in  !  " 

The  doctor  gathered  up  his  herculean 
frame,  stood  erect,  touched  the  ceiling 
with  his  wig,  stared,  or  squinted, — indeed, 
looked  any  way  but  the  right  way.  At 
la»t,  with  mouth  wide  open  (none  of  the 
smallest)  and  stomach  heaving,  he,  with 
some  difficulty,  recovered  his  breath,  and, 
looking  at  Boswell  with  dignified  con- 
tempt, he  roared  out,  with  the  lungs  of  a 
stentor,  "  Mr.  Boswell,  sir,  leave  off  laugh- 
ing ;  and,  under  the  pain  of  my  eternal 
displeasure,  never  utter  a  single  syllable 
of  this  abominable  adventure  to  any  soul 
living,  while  you  breathe." 


THE  RIVAL  BROOM  MAKERS. 

A  thieving  fellow,  naturally  sly, 

"  Cheaper  than   all  the   world/'   his   wares 

would  cry, 
And  on   a  jack-ass'   back  such  bargains 

brought  'em  ; 

All  siz'd  and  sorted  town-made  brooms, 
For  sweeping  stables,  gardens,  hearths, 

or  rooms, 
So  cheap  t   as  quite   astonished   all    who 

bought  'em  I 

Thus,  for  a  while,  he  drove  a  roaring  trade, 
And  wisely  thought  a  pretty  purse  to  have 

made, 

When  on  a  dismal  day,  at  every  door, 
Where  oft  he'd  sold  his  dog-cheap  goods 

before, 
With  freezing  looks,  his  customers  all  told 

him, 

Another  broom-monger  they'd  found, 
That  travell'd  far  and  wide  the  country 

round, 

And  in  all  sorts  and  sizes,  under-sold  him. 

Scratching  his  wig  he  left  'em,  musing  deep, 

With  knitted  brows — up  to  his  ears  in 

thought, 
To  guess,  where  in  the  deuce  could  brooms 

be  bought, 

That  any  mortal  man  could  sell  so  cheap. 
When  lo  1  as  through  the  streets  he  slowly 

passes, 

A  voice  as  clear  as  raven's,  owl's,  or  ass's, 
And  just  as  musical,  rung  in  his  ears,  like 

thunder, 

(Half-splitting    his    thick    head,   and  wig 
crarnm'd  full  of  wonder,) 


With  roaring  out  "  Cheap  brooms  t  "    O'er- 

joyed  he  meets 
His    brother  brush,    and   thus   the   rascal 

greets : — 

"  How,  how  the  devil,  brother  rogue,  do  I 
Hear  my  old  friends  sing  out  a  general  cry 
That  I'm  a  knave  ?  then  growl  like  bears, 

and  tell  me, 
That  you  do  more, 

Than  all  the  world  could  ever  do  before, 
And,  in  this  self-same  broom  trade  under- 
sell me. 

I  always  thought  /  sold  'em  cheap  enough, 
And    well  I  might — for  why?  ('twixt  you 

and  I,) 

I  own,  I  now  and  then  have  stole  the  stuff"." 
"Ah I1'  (quoth  his  brother  thief,  a  dog 

far  deeper) 
"  I  see,  my  boy,  you  haven't  half  learnt  your 

trade, 
I  go  a  cheaper  way  to  work  than  that." — 

"A  cheaper!" 
"  Why,   ah — I  always  steals  mine  ready 

made." 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  ASYLUM  FOR  AGED 
AND  DECAYED  PUNSTERS. 

fOLiVEB  WENDELL  HOLMES,  M.  D.,  an  American  phy- 
sician and  author,  was  born  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  Aug. 
29,  1809.  In  1829  he  graduated  at  Harvard  College 
and  entered  upon  the  study  of  law,  but  soon  adopted 
his  father's  profession — medicine.  He  studied  in 
Europe,  graduated  as  doctor  of  medicine  in  1836,  and 
two  years  after  was  appointed  professor  of  anatomy  and 
physiology  in  Dartmouth  College;  and  in  1847  was 
transferred  to  the  same  chair  at  Harvard,  the  medical 
department  of  which  is  at  Boston,  where  he  has  since 
resided.  Dr.  Holmes  is  not  only  a  man  of  science,  but 
a  humorous  and  satirical  poet  of  much  ability.  Several 
of  his  lyrics  also  are  among  the  most  exquisite  produc- 
ed in  America.  Most  of  his  poems  have  been  delivered 
before  College  literary  societies,  as  Poetry,  a  metrical 
Eif ay ;  Terpsichore;  Urania;  and  Astraea.  In  1875  he 
contributed  his  Autocrat  of  tin  Breakfast  Table,  a  con- 
nected series  of  prose  essays,  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly, 
which  was  followed  by  The  Professor  at  the  Breakfatt 
Table,*nA  the  Poet  at  the  Breakfast  Table  (1872).  A  re- 
markable work  is  the  singular  romance,  Elsie  Vtnner 
(1861).  Published  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  <fc  Co.,  Boston. 

Having  just  returned  from  a  visit  to 
this  admirable  Institution  in  company 
with  a  friend  who  is  one  of  the  Directors, 
we  propose  giving  a  short  account  of  what 
we  saw  and  heard.  The  great  success  of 
the  Asylum  for  Idiots  and  Feeble-minded 
Youth,  several  of  the  scholars  from  which 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  ASYLUM  FOR  AGED  AND  DECAYED  PUNSTERS. 


87 


have  reached  considerable  distinction,  one 
of  them  being  connected  with  a  leading 
daily  paper  in  this  city,  and  others  having 
served  in  the  State  and  National  legisla- 
tures, was  the  motive  which  led  to  the 
foundation  of  this  excellent  charity.  Our 
late  distinguished  townsman,  Noah  Dow, 
Esquire,  as  is  well  known,  bequeathed  a 
large  portion  of  his  fortune  to  this  estab- 
lishment,— "  being  thereto  moved,"  as  his 
will  expressed  it,  "  by  the  desire  of  N. 
Dowing  some  publick  Institution  for  the 
benefit  of  Mankind."  Being  consulted 
as  to  the  rules  of  the  institution  and  the 
selection  of  a  superintendent,  he  replied, 
that  "  all  boards  must  construct  their  own 
platforms  of  operation.  Let  them  select 
anyhow  and  he  should  be  pleased."  N. 
E.  Howe,  Esq.,  was  chosen  in  compliance 
with  this  delicate  suggestion. 

The  charter  provides  for  the  support  of 
"  One  hundred  aged  and  decayed  Gentle- 
men-Punsters." On  inquiry  if  there  was 
no  provision  for  females,  my  friend  called 
my  attention  to  this  remarkable  psycho- 
logical fact,  namely :  THERE  is  NO  SUCH 

THING  AS  A  FEMALE  PUNSTER. 

This  remark  struck  me  forcibly,  and  on 
reflection  I  found  that  /  never  knew  nor 
heard  of  one,  though  I  have  once  or  twice 
heard  a  woman  make  a  single  detached 
pun,  as  I  have  known  a  hen  to  crow. 

On  arriving  at  the  south  gate  of  the 
Asylum  grounds,  I  was  about  to  ring,  but 
my  friend  held  my  arm  and  begged  me  to 
rap  with  my  stick,  which  I  did.  An  old 
man  with  a  very  comical  face  presently 
opened  the  gate  and  put  out  his  head. 

"  So  you  prefer  Cane  to  A  bell,  do  you?  " 
he  said, — and  began  chuckling  and  cough- 
ing at  a  great  rate. 

My  friend  winked  at  me. 

"  You're  here  still,  Old  Joe,  I  see,"  he 
said  to  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  yes, — and  it's  very  odd,  consider- 
ing how  often  I've  bolted  nights." 

He  then  threw  open  the  double  gates 
for  us  to  ride  through. 

"  Now/'  said  the  old  man,  as  he  pulled 
the  gates  after  us,  "  you've  had  a  long 
journey." 

"  Why,  how  is  that,  Old  Joe?  "  said  my 
friend. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?"  he  answered;  "there's 
the  East  hinges  on  one  side  of  the  gate, 
and  there's  the  West  hinges  on  t'  other 
Bide, — haw  !  haw  !  haw ! '' 

We  had  no  sooner  got  into  the  yard 


than  a  feeble  little  gentleman,  with  a  re- 
markably bright  eye,  came  up  to  us,  look- 
ing very  seriously,  as  if  something  had 
happened. 

"The  town  has  entered  a  complaint 
against  the  Asylum  as  a  gambling  estab- 
lishment," he  said  to  my  friend,  the  Di- 
rector. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  my  friend. 

"  Why,  they  complain  that  there's  a  lot 
o'.  rye  on  the  premises,"  he  answered, 
pointing  to  a  field  of  that  grain, — and 
hobbled  away,  his  shoulders  shaking  with 
laughter,  as  he  went. 

On  entering  the  main  building,  we  saw 
the  Rules  and  Kegulations  for  the  Asylum 
conspicuously  posted  up.  I  made  a  few 
extracts  which  may  be  interesting. 

SECT.  I.    OF  VERBAL  EXERCISES. 

5.  Each  Inmate  shall  be  permitted  to 
make  Puns  freely  from  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing until  ten  at  night,  except  during  Ser- 
vice in    the  Chapel  and  Grace    before 
Meals. 

6.  At  ten  o'clock  the  gas  will  be  turned 
oflf,  and  no  further  Puns,  Conundrums,  or 
other  play  on  words,  will  be  allowed  to 
be  uttered,  or  to  be  uttered  aloud. 

9.  Inmates  who  have  lost  their  faculties 
and  cannot  any  longer  make  Puns  shall 
be  permitted  to  repeat  such  as  may  be  se- 
lected for  them  by  the  Chaplain  out  of  the 
work  of  Mr.  Joseph  Miller. 

10.  Violent  and  unmanageable  Pun- 
sters, who  interrupt  others  when  engaged 
in  conversation,  with  Puns  or  attempts  at 
the  same,  shall  be  deprived  of  their  Jo- 
seph Millers,  and,  if  necessary,  placed  in 
solitary  confinement. 

SECT.  III.   OF  DEPORTMENT  AT  MEALS. 

4.  No  Inmate  shall  make  any  Pun,  or 
attempt  at  the  same,  until  the  Blessing 
has  been  asked  and  the  company  are  de- 
cently seated. 

7.  Certain  Puns  having  been  placed  on 
the  Index  Expurgatorius  of  the  Institu- 
tion, no  Inmate  shall  be  allowed  to  utter 
them,  on  pain  of  being  debarred  the  pe- 
rusal of  Punch  and   Vanity  Fair,  and,  if 
repeated,  deprived  of  his  Joseph  Miller. 

Among  these  are  the  following : — 
Allusions  to  Attic  salt,  when  asked  to 

pass  the  salt-cellar. 

Remarks  on  the  Inmates  being  muttered, 

etc.,  etc. 


88         A  VISIT  TO  THE  ASYLUM  FOR  AGED  AND  DECAYED  PUNSTERS. 


Associating  baked  beans  with  the  bene- 
factors of  the  Institution. 

Saying  that  beef-eating  is  befitting,  etc., 
etc. 

The  following  are  also  prohibited,  ex- 
cepting to  such  Inmates  as  may  have  lost 
their  faculties  and  cannot  any  longer 
make  Puns  of  their  own : — 

" your  own  hair  or  a  wig ; "  "  it 

will  be  long  enough,1'  etc.,  etc. ;  "  little  of 
its  age,"  etc.,  etc.; — also,  playing  upon 
the  following  words:  Aoapital;  mayor; 
pun;  pitied;  bread;  sauce,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 
See  INDEX  EXPURGATORIUS,  printed  for 
use  of  Inmates. 

The  subjoined  Conundrum  is  not  al- 
lowed : — Why  is  Hasty  Pudding  like  the 
Prince?  Because  it  comes  attended  by 
its  sweet; — nor  this  variation  to  it,  to  wit: 
Because  the  'lasses  runs  after  it. 

The  Superintendent,  who  went  round 
with  us,  had  been  a  noted  punster  in  his 
time,  and  well  known  in  the  business- 
world,  but  lost  his  customers  by  making 
too  free  with  their  names, — as  in  the  fa- 
mous story  he  set  afloat  in  '29  of  four  Jer- 
ries attaching  to  the  names  of  a  noted 
Judge,  an  eminent  Lawyer,  the  Secretary 
of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  and  the 
well-known  Landlord  at  Springfield.  One 
of  the  four  Jerries,  he  added,  was  of  gi- 
gantic magnitude.  The  play  on  words 
was  brought  out  by  an  accidental  remark 
of  Solomons,  the  well-known  Banker. 
"Capital  Punishment ! "  the  Jew  was  over- 
heard saying,  with  reference  to  the  guilty 
parties.  He  was  understood  as  saying,  A 
capital  pun  is  meant,  which  led  to  an  in- 
vestigation and  the  relief  of  the  greatly 
excited  public  mind. 

The  Superintendent  showed  some  of  his 
old  tendencies,  aa  he  went  round  with  us. 

"  Do  you  kno  w  " — he  broke  out  all  at  once 
— "  why  they  don't  take  steppes  in  Tar- 
tary  for  establishing  Insane  Hospitals?" 

We  both  confessed  ignorance. 

"  Because  there  are  nomad  people  to  be 
found  there,"  he  said,  with  a  dignified 
smile. 

He  proceeded  to  introduce  us  to  differ- 
ent Inmates.  The  first  was  a  middle-aged, 
scholarly  man,  who  was  seated  at  a  table 
with  a  Webster's  Dictionary  and  a  sheet 
of  paper  before  him. 

''Well,  what  luck  to-day,  Mr.  Mowzer?" 

"  Three  or  four  only,"  said  Mr.  Mowzer. 
*  Will  you  hear  'em  now, — now  I'm  here  ?  " 

We  all  nodded. 


"  Don't  you  see  Webster  ers  in  the  words 
center  and  theater  ? 

"  If  he  spells  leather  let  her,  and  feather 
f ether,  isn't  there  danger  that  he'll  give  us 
a  bad  spell  of  weather  f 

"  Besides,  Webster  is  a  resurrectionist ; 
he  does  not  allow  u  to  rest  quietly  in  the 
mould. 

"And  again,  because  Mr.  Worcester  in- 
serts an  illustration  in  his  text,  is  that  any 
reason  why  Mr.  Webster's  publishers 
should  hitch  one  on  in  their  appendix  ? 
It's  what  I  call  a  Connect-a-cut  trick. 

"  Why  is  his  way  of  spelling  like  the 
floor  of  an  oven?  Because  it  is  under 
bread." 

"Mowzer!"  said  the  Superintendent, 
— "  that  word  is  on  the  Index ! " 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Mr.  Mowzer ;  "  please 
don't  deprive  me  of  Vanity  Fair,  this  one 
time,  Sir. 

"These  are  all,  this  morning.  Good 
day,  Gentlemen.'1  Then  to  the  Superin- 
tendent,—"Add  you,  Sir  I " 

The  next  Inmate  was  a  semi-idiotic 
looking  old  man.  He  had  a  heap  of  block- 
letters  before  him,  and,  as  we  came  up,  he 
pointed,  without  saying  a  word,  to  the  ar- 
rangements he  had  made  with  them  on 
the  table.  They  were  evidently  anagrams, 
and  had  the  merit  of  transposing  the  let- 
ters of  the  words  employed  without  addi- 
tion or  subtraction.  Here  are  a  few  of 
them : — 

TIMES SMITE! 

POST STOP! 

TRIBUNE TRUE  NIB. 

WORLD DR.  OWL. 

AnvimTTWR  f  RES  VERI  DAT. 

ADVERTISER    .    .     j  Is  TBUE ,    READ! 

ALLOPATHY ALL  o'  TH'  PAY. 

HOMOEOPATHY  .  O,  THE — !  O !  O,  MY  !  PAH  ! 

The  mention  of  several  New  York  pa- 
pers led  to  two  or  three  questions.  Thus : 
Whether  the  Editor  of  the  Tribune  was 
H.  O.  really  f  If  the  complexion  of  his 
politics  were  not  accounted  for  by  his  be- 
ing an  eager  person  himself?  Whether 
Wendell  Fillips  were  not  a  reduced  copy 
of  John  Knocks  ?  Whether  a  New  York 
Feuilletoniste  is  not  the  same  thing  as  a 
Fellow  down  East  f 

At  this  time  a  plausible-looking,  bald- 
headed  man  joined  us,  evidently  waiting 
to  take  a  part  in  the  conversation. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Biggies,"  said  the 
Superintendent.  "Anything  fresh  thk 
morning?  Any  Conundrum  ?  " 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  ASYLUM  FOR  AGED  AND  DECAYED  PUNSTERS. 


89 


"  I  haven't  looked  at  the  cattle,"  he  an- 
swered dryly. 

"Cattle?     Why  cattle?" 

"  Why,  to  see  if  there's  any  com  under 
'em  !  "  he  said  ;  and  immediately  asked, 
"  Why  is  Douglas  like  the  earth?  " 

We  tried,  but  couldn't  guess. 

"  Because  he  was  flattened  out  at  the 
polls  !  "  said  Mr.  Biggies. 

"A  famous  politician,  formerly,"  said 
the  Superintendent.  "  His  grandfather 
was  a  seize- Hessian-ist  in  the  Revolutiona- 
ry War.  By  the  way,  I  hear  the  freeze- 
dil  doctrines  don't  go  down  at  New  Bed- 
ford." 

"  The  next  Inmate  looked  as  if  he  might 
have  been  a  sailor  formerly. 

"Ask  him  what  his  calling  was,"  said 
the  Superintendent. 

"  Followed  the  sea,"  he  replied  to  the 
question  put  by  one  of  us.  "  Went  as 
mate  in  a  fishing  schooner." 

'*  Why  did  you  give  it  up  ?  " 

"  Because  I  didn't  like  working  for  two 
mast-ers,"  he  replied. 

Presently  we  came  upon  a  group  of 
elderly  persons,  gathered  about  a  venera- 
ble gentleman  with  flowing  locks,  who 
was  propounding  questions  to  a  row  of 
Inmates. 

"  Can  any  Inmate  give  me  a  motto  for 
M.  Berger  ?  "  he  said. 

Nobody  responded  for  two  or  three 
minutes.  At  last  one  old  man,  whom  I 
at  once  recognized  as  a  Graduate  of  our 
University  (Anno  1800),  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Rem  a  cue  tetigit.'' 

"  Go  to  the  head  of  the  Class,  Josselyn," 
said  the  venerable  Patriarch. 

The  successful  Inmate  did  as  he  was 
told,  but  in  a  very  rough  way,  pushing 
against  two  or  three  of  the  Class. 

"  How  is  this  ?  "  said  the  Patriarch. 

"  You  told  me  to  go  up  jostlin',"  he  re- 
plied. 

The  old  gentlemen  who  had  been 
shoved  about  enjoyed  the  Pun  too  much 
to  be  angry. 

Presently  the  Patriarch  asked  again, — 

"  Why  was  M.  Berger  authorized  to  go 
to  the  dances  given  to  the  Prince  ?  " 

The  Class  had  to  give  up  this,  and  he 
answered  it  himself: — 

"  Because  every  one  of  his  carromswas 
a  tick-it  to  the  ball" 

"  Who  collects  the  money  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  the  last  campaign  in  Italy  ?  " 
asked  the  Patriarch. 


Here  again  the  Class  failed. 

"  The  war-cloud's  rolling  Dun"  he  an- 
swered. 

"And  what  is  mulled  wine  made  with?1' 

Three  or  four  voices  exclaimed  at  once, 

t(Sizzle-y  Madeira ! " 

Here  a  servant  entered,  and  said,  "  Lun- 
cheon-time." The  old  gentlemen,  who 
have  excellent  appetites,  dispersed  at  once, 
one  of  them  politely  asking  us  if  we  would 
not  stop  and  have  a  bit  of  bread  and  a 
little  mite  of  cheese. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  have  forgotten  to 
show  you,"  said  the  Superintendent, — 
"  the  cell  for  the  confinement  of  violent 
and  unmanageable  Punsters." 

We  were  very  curious  to  see  it,  particu- 
larly with  reference  to  the  alleged  absence 
of  every  object  upon  which  a  play  of 
words  could  possibly  be  made. 

The  Superintendent  led  us  up  some  dark 
stairs  to  a  corridor,  then  along  a  narrow 
passage,  then  down  a  broad  flight  of  steps 
into  another  passage-way,  and  opened  a 
large  door  which  looked  out  on  the  main 
entrance. 

"  We  have  not  seen  the  cell  for  the  con- 
finement of  '  violent  and  unmanageable  ' 
Punsters,"  we  both  exclaimed. 

"  This  is  the  sell  I "  he  exclaimed,  point- 
ing to  the  outside  prospect. 

My  friend,  the  Director,  looked  me  in 
the  face  so  good-naturedly  that  I  had  to 
laugh. 

"  We  like  to  humor  the  Inmates,"  he 
said.  "  It  has  a  bad  effect,  we  find,  on 
their  health  and  spirits  to  disappoint  them 
of  their  little  pleasantries.  Some  of  the 
jests  to  which  we  have  listened  are  not 
new  to  me,  though  I  dare  say  you  may  not 
have  heard  them  often  before.  The  same 
thing  happens  in  general  society,  with  this 
additions  1  disadvantage,  that  there  is  no 
punishment  provided  for  '  violent  and  un- 
manageable' Punsters,  as  in  our  institu- 
tion." 

We  made  our  bow  to  the  Superintend- 
ent and  walked  to  the  place  where  our 
carriage  was  waiting  for  us.  On  our  way, 
an  exceedingly  decrepit  old  man  moved 
slowly  towards  us,  with  a  perfectly  blank 
look  on  his  face,  but  still  appearing  as  if 
he  wished  to  speak. 

"Look!"  said  the  Director,— "  that  is 
our  Centenarian." 

The  ancient  man  crawled  towards  ui. 
cocked  one  eye,  with  which  he  seemed  to 
see  a  little,  up  at  us,  and  said, — 


90 


TOM  TURNER. 


"  Sarvant,  young  Gentlemen.  Why  is 
a — a — a — like  a — a — a — ?  Give  it  up? 
Because  it's  a — a  -a — a — ." 

He  smiled  a  pleasant  smile,  as  if  it  were 
all  plain  enough. 

"  One  hundred  and  seven  last  Christ- 
mas," said  the  Director.  "He  lost  his 
answers  about  the  age  of  ninety-eight. 
Of  late  years  he  puts  his  whole  Conun- 
drums in  blank, — but  they  please  him 
just  as  well.'' 

We  took  our  departure,  much  gratified 
and  instructed  by  our  visit,  hoping  to  have 
some  future  opportunity  of  inspecting  the 
records  of  this  excellent  charity  and  mak- 
ing extracts  for  the  benefit  of  our  readers. 
OLIVER  WZNDEIX  HOLMKS. 


TOM  TURNER. 

AN   EPIC   BALLAD. 

A  fisherman  was  Tom  by  trade ; 

He  slept  on  briny  planks ; 
And  though  not  rich,  he  often  made 

A  run  upon  the  banks. 

On  fish  he  lived  from  day  to  day — 
Fish  caught  by  his  own  hand  5 

And  when  he  did  not  land  bis  prey, 
He  did  not  praise  the  land. 

When  he  had  seen  a  shoal  of  shad, 
Their  struggles  were  in  vain  ; 

The  fish  might  hop  around  like  mad, 
And  soon  they  were  in-seine. 

He  led  a  happy  life :  content, 

He  never  thought  to  roam ; 
And  every  day  he  fishing  went, 

And  brought  his  net  gains  home. 

Tom  loved  a  girl,  so  tall  and  slim, 

The  fairest  in  the  town  ; 
But  Sal  would  not  take  up  with  him, 

So  he  was  taken  down. 

By  passion's  power  now  racked  and  worn, 
He  called  on  Sal,  a  swain  forlorn, 

Led  on  by  Love's  suggestion. 
He  found  that  she  was  popping  corn, 

And  so  he  popped  the  question. 

She  was  the  sweetest  girl  in  town, 
And  playful  as  a  kitten  j 


For  her  Tom  threw  the  gauntlet  down, 
And  she  gave  him  the  mitten. 

Then  Tom  was  mad  I     He  kicked  a  lad  I 
His  heart  was  sad  !     His  head  was  bad  I 

His  language  was  still  badder  ! 
And  he  who  once  had  lived  on  shad 

Soon  faded  to  a  shadder. 

To  be  a  man  he  vowed  to  try ; 

He  left  that  town  of  woe ; 
He  went  out  West  to  do  or  die  ; 
He  met  an  Indian  six  feet  high — 

Of  course  it  was  not  Lo  ! 

The  Indian  saw  the  Yankee  small ; 

The  Yankee  saw  the  Sioux  : 
At  once  they  knew  that  one  must  fall, 

At  once  they  both  fell  to. 


SIR   ISAAC    NEWTON'S    COURT- 
SHIP. 
(Illustration). 

SIB  Isaac,  we  are  told,  was  once  per- 
suaded by  his  friends  to  entertain  some 
thoughts  of  marriage,  and  a  suitable 
young  lady  was  selected  by  them. 

Though  considerably  engaged  with  ce- 
lestial bodies  at  the  time,  he  liked  the 
terrestrial  luminary  very  well,  but,  in  the 
honest  way  of  courtship,  he  informed  the 
girl  that  he  had  many  odd  habits. 

Complaisant  and  good-natured,  as  most 
young  ladies  are  under  the  circumstances, 
the  fair  one  promised  to  be  indulgent ;  and 
so  pleased  was  Sir  Isaac  with  her  kind- 
heartedness,  that  he  resorted  to  his  fa- 
vourite pipe  immediately.  Enjoying  it 
whiff  after  whiff,  he  entered  into  conver- 
sation with  his  sweet  partner,  held  her 
hand  in  his,  squeezing  it  occasionally  as  a 
lover  ought.  At  length  he  sank  into  one 
of  his  abstracted  reveries,  and  whether  he 
was  thinking  of  the  apple  and  its  fall,  of 
squaring  the  circle,  or  of  what  else,  never 
has  been  determined,  but  his  pipe  becom- 
ing dull,  he,  in  the  absence  of  his  mind, 
unwittingly  raised  the  yielding  damsel's 
hand  towards  it  and  used  her  little  fin- 
ger as  a  tobacco -stopper.  Her  screams 
aroused  him,  and  looking  innocently  in 
her  face,  the  philosopher  exclaimed,  "  Ah, 
my  dear  madam,  I  beg  your  pardon  I  I 
see  it  won't  do  !  I  see,  I  see  that  I  am 
doomed  to  remain  a  bachelor." 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


THE    STORY   OF    MY    LEGAL    EX- 
AMINATION   AND    MY    AUNT'S 
POLICE  CASE. 

[FmAWCis  OOWLCT  BUBNAND  was  born  in  London  in 
1837,  and  educated  at  Eton  and  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, was  called  to  the  bar  in  1862.  Burnand  haa, 
since  the  death  of  Shirley  Brooks  in  1874,  been  the 
editor  of  Punch.  Mr.  Burnand  became  known  to  the 
public  as  the  author  of  "  Happy  Thoughts,"  about  1868, 
and  is  to-day  one  of  England's  most  popular  Humorinta. 
He  is  the  author  of  about  a  hundred  dramatic  pieces. 
The  burlesque  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  "  Black-Eyed  Susan" 
achieved  a  "  run "  of  400  consecutive  nights  at  the 
Royal  Theatre,  Dean  Street,  Soho,  London.  We  give 
one  of  his  more  recent  books.] 

My  Aunt  paid  a  Conveyancer  a  hundred 
pounds  to  teach  me  all  he  knew,  or,  at  all 
events,  so  much  of  his  knowledge  as  he 
could  spare,  without  inconvenience  to 
himself. 

The  implicit  confidence  reposed  in  me, 
subsequently,  by  my  Aunt,  seems  to  ren- 
der a  sort  or  Apologia  necessary,  in  order 
to  "  show  cause ''  why  my  legal  knowledge 
was  never  of  any  great  service  either  to 
her  or  myself. 

On  reviewing  the  commencement  of  my 
career,  I  find  that  we  were  all  three  mis- 
taken in  our  views  of  the  future.  By  all 
three,  I  mean,  my  Aunt,  my  Uncle  (her 
brother),  and  their  Nephew,  myself.  One 
mistake  I  made  at  a  very  early  period, 
namely,  at  Camford,  where  I  astonished 
my  uncle  by  being  unable  to  point  out 
my  name  to  him  in  the  Honour  List  of 
the  Little-Go  examination.  However,  I 
proved  to  him,  that  it  was  oniy  owing  to 
my  having  taken  up  a  line  of  study  totally 
different  from  that  expected  by  the  Ex- 
aminers, that  I  had  been,  to  speak  techni- 
cally, "  plucked." 

I  had  disdained  to  attempt  the  ordinary 
line,  and,  therefore,  I  neither  came  out 
with  honours,  nor  without  them.  In 
short,  I  didn't  come  out  at  all,  except  out 
of  the  Senate  House  before  the  examina- 
tion had  concluded. 

After  this  mistake,  I  thought  that  the 
best  thing  I  could  do,  to  prevent  a  re- 
currence of  that  accident,  was  to  go  away 
and  read.  I  chose  Brown  of  Corpus  for 
my  tutor,  or  "  coach,"  as  the  word  is,  and 
of  course  discovered  afterwards  that  I 
ought  to  have  gone  to  Smith  of  Sidney. 
I  had  a  narrow  squeak  of  it  with  Brown, 


who  had  invented  a  favourite  formula  for 
polishing  off  the  most  difficult  equations, 
it  was  apparently  so  easy  that  I  left  it 
to  the  last,  and  then  found  that  any  at- 
tempt at  memoria  technica  was  utterly 
unsuited  to  my  peculiar  faculties. 

When  the  time  for  my  degree  came,  I 
went  in  for  mathematical  honours,  and 
came  out  in  the  "  Pol."  However,  I  was 
able  to  write  B.  A.,  at  the  end  of  my 
name,  which  I  dare  say  I  have  done  once 
or  twice  since,  to  see  how  it  looked,  but 
without  any  definite  object. 

The  last  examination  I  found  myself 
obliged  to  undergo  was  for  the  law.  It 
had  been  determined  by  my  uncle  and  a 
couple  of  aunts,  that  as  two  of  my  cousins 
were  in  the  army,  another  in  the  navy 
(always  going  to  join  his  ship,  and  per- 
petually being  somewhere  else  on  leave, 
as  far  as  I  could  make  out),  a  fourth  in 
the  City  at  Lloyd's  (where  he  is  always 
ready  for  luncheon  with  a  friend)  and  a 
fifth  in  Liverpool,  where  he  is  making  a 
colossal  fortune  out  of  something  which 
requires  him  to  be  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  time  at  the  London  club — it  was  de- 
cided, I  say,  by  them,  that  I  should  be- 
come a  banker. 

[I  made  a  mistake  in  mentioning  my 
law  examination  first ;  there's  the  bank- 
ing to  come.] 

The  question  was  put  to  me,  would  I 
like  to  go  into  Buller,  Fobbes  and  Grum- 
bury's  Bank  ?  I  said  I  thought  I  should  : 
my  notion  of  my  employment  at  Buller, 
Fobbes  and  Grumbury's  being  that  I 
should  stand  behind  a  counter  with  a 
copper  coal  shovel,  and  dabble  in  sove- 
reigns. Everyone  said  that  I  was  a  lucky 
fellow,  and  would  be  a  partner  with  Bul- 
ler, Fobbes  and  Grumbury,  or,  Buller  de- 
ceased and  only  Fobbes  and  Grumbury 
left,  I  should  succeed  to  Grumbury's 
vacant  place,  or  Grumbury  being  gone,  I 
should  come  into  Fobbes'  place"*"  or  both 
defunct,  I  should  be  all  alone  as  Myself, 
late  Buller,  Fobbes  and  Grumbury.  There 
was  the  opening,  said  my  uncle,  encoura- 
ging me  as  if  I  were  a  ferret  going  in  to 
work  my  way  up,  and  hunt  out  poor  old 
Fobbes  and  Grumbury. 

In  I  went.  The  partners  were  very 
particular  about  their  clerks  being  at  the 
office  at  nine,  and  not  leaving  until  the 
last  figure  had  been  scored,  and  all  work 
done,  which  often  didn't  happen  till  half- 
past  five.  At  midday  I  would  rush  ovet 


92 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


to  my  cousin  at  Lloyd's,  who  could  always 
spare  an  hour  to  my  five  minutes,  and 
ask  him  to  give  me  luncheon.  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  turtle-soup 
and  punch  is  not  the  best  thing  to  take  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  if  you  want  to 
add  up  accounts.  Birch's  punch  is  A  1, 
and  soon  became  A  2,  and  A3.  I  believe 
my  cousin  went  back  ready  to  write  risks 
for  fabulous  sums  to  the  coast  of  the  un- 
discovered islands,  if  anyone  had  sug- 
gested such  speculations  then.  For  my- 
self, after  one  of  these  midday  repasts,  I 
nodded  to  Buller,  smiled  on  Fobbes 
through  the  glass  door,  and  winked  at 
Grumoury  when  he  came  out  to  know 
whose  eye  it  was :  and  on  my  tenth  day 
•in  the  bank  I  went  wrong  to  the  extent 
ol  thirty-thousand  pounds  in  my  account. 
I  forget  now  how  it  was  that  I  had  to  en- 
ter it,  or  what  took  me  into  the  cashier's 
department :  probably  Birch's  punch  did 
it.  At  all  events  the  cashier's  clerks, 
with  Fobbes  and  Grumbury  into  the  bar- 
gain, were  all  kept  at  the  bank  long  after 
office  hours,  utterly  unable  to  make  out 
where  the  money  was  lost,  and  I  have  a 
sort  of  notion  that  in  consequence  of  this 
little  error  of  mine,  something  "  went  up" 
that  ought  to  have  gone  down,  and  some- 
thing "  went  down,''  that  ought  to  have 
gone  up,  and  the  Stock  Exchange  was, 
somehow,  visibly  affected. 

I  was  cautioned,  and  went  on  for  more 
than  a  week  at  this  sort  of  drudgery  (for 
drudgery  it  was  to  a  B.A.),  when  my 
cousin  at  Lloyd's  suddenly  discovered  a 
wonderful  beverage  concocted  by  the 
head  waiter  of  the  Marine  Insurance 
establishment.  There  was  plenty  of  ice 
in  it,  I  know  that,  and  you  sucked  it 
through  a  straw,  like  sherry  cobbler :  it 
wasn't  sherry  cobbler,  and  it  wasn't  any 
other  cobbler ;  but  it  was  one  of  those 
drinks  that  you  go  on  sipping  and  won- 
dering what  it  is,  and  how  it's  made,  and 
whether  half-a-glass  more  would  hurt 
you,  and  finally  decide  that  there  isn't  a 
headache  in  half  a  hogshead  of  it.  I  did 
all  this,  without  arriving  at  the  half 
hogshead  point,  and  the  half-glass  more 
did  hurt  me.  I  have  been  since  informed 
that  I  offered  to  fight  one  of  the  customers, 
who,  I  pointed  out,  had  insulted  me, 
across  the  counter,  and  whose  proffered 
cheque  I  scorned.  Fobbes  and  Grumbury 
agreed  to  look  over  this  (Grumbury  was 
somewhat  obstinate,  in  Butler's  absence 


from  town),  and  I  remained  in  the  bank  ; 
but  I  avoided  luncheons.  My  evenings 
in  town  were  given  up  to  relaxation,  and 
my  mornings  I,  with  difficulty,  devoted  to 
Buller,  Fobbes  and  Grumbury.  In  fact, 
I  may  say,  that,  after  a  time,  finding  re- 
freshing sleep  at  night  incompatible  with 
going  to  bed  late  and  getting  to  Grum- 
bury's  at  nine  A.M.,  I  devoted  my  evenings 
to  the  serious  work  of  amusement,  and  the 
day  time  to  refreshing  myself  with  as 
much  sleep  as  I  could  get  at  my  desk  be- 
hind the  counter  at  Fobbes  and  Gram- 
bury's. 

Summer  and  cricket  came ;  once  I  stayed 
away  with  leave  and  missed  the  train: 
another  time  I  stayed  away,  without  leave, 
and  missed  two  trains.  Buller  frowned, 
Fobbes  shook  his  head,  and  Grumbury 
observed,  "  It  wouldn't  do."  FobbevS  told 
me  that  "  when  he  was  a  young  man,  he 
came  into  the  City  with  a  crust,  and  had 
to  work  for  his  daily  bread.  He  had  no 
cricket  or  amusements."  I  didn't  know  if 
this  was  meant  for  an  argument;  if  it 
was,  I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  pitied  poor 
Fobbes.  Grumbury  chimed  in  that  "  he 
had  been  made  to  work ;  had  not  known 
what  it  was  to  have  a  holiday  for  years," 
which  (I  am  sorry  to  say  it  of  Grumbury), 
was  not  the  strict  truth,  as  he  never  came 
to  the  bank  on  Saturdays  and  had  stop- 
ped away  on  Mondays  and  Wednesdays 
(having  a  country  farm)  for  the  last 
twenty  years.  Buller  only  sighed.  But 
all  three  partners  thought  I  had  made  a 
mistake  in  coming  into  the  bank,  and  so 
I  retired,  leaving  the  victory  in  the  hands 
of  Buller,  Fobbes  and  Grumbury. 

"  Now,"  said  my  uncle,  who  was  very 
angry  at  the  partnership  prospect  being 
obliterated  :  "  You  mmt  do  something." 

We  were  at  dessert  at  the  time,  and  be- 
ing thus  addressed,  I  began  peeling  an 
apple:  not  because  I  wanted  it,  but  to 
convey  an  idea  that  I  had  no  wish  to  be 
idle. 

"  The  Army  ?  "  said  I,  inquiringly. 

"  You're  too  old,"  was  my  uncle's  re- 
ply ;  surlily. 

I  murmured  vaguely,  "the  Mounted 
Rifles,"  having  some  indistinct  notion 
that  you  could  enter  this  corps  (if  such 
an  one  existed,  of  which  I  had  my  secret 
doubts)  up  to  any  age :  perhaps  be  a  raw 
recruit  at  seventy. 

"  Mounted  Fiddlesticks !  "  gaid  my  un- 
cle, who  thought  I  was  treating  the  sub- 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


93 


ject  with  levity,  and  did  not  want  to  be, 
as  he  expressed  it,  "  kicking  my  heels 
about  at  home." 

I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  his  saying 
"Mounted  Fiddlesticks,"  whereupon  he 
begged  me  not  to  play  the  fool  at  his 
table,  whatever  I  might  do  at  Fobbes  and 
Grumbury's  From  which  you  may 
gather  that  my  uncle  did  not  possess  the 
best  of  tempers :  he  was  also,  as  you  may 
have  seen  from  his  view  of  the  future 
partnership  at  Fobbes's,  a  very  sanguine 
man. 

"  The  law  ?  *'  I  suggested  experiment- 
ally. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  superciliously,  "  that's 
all  very  well :  but  what  do  you  mean  by 
the  Law  ?  " 

I  did  not  know  what  I  meant,  having 
indeed  spoken  at  haphazard :  but  I  had 
a  general  idea  of  a  long  wig,  bands,  a 
gown,  and  being  a  judge,  somehow.  I 
was  silent. 

"The  Bar,"  asked  my  uncle,  "or  a 
solicitor?" 

Never  having  considered  this  before,  I 
thought  the  dutiful  course  would  be  to 
refer  it  to  him.  He  chose  the  Bar.  The 
prospect  he  held  out  was  a  brilliant  one. 
"  Make  a  speech,"  said  he,  rising  with  the 
occasion,  for  he  was  of  a  sanguine  tem- 
perament. "  Everyone  says  '  clever,  very 
clever :  who  is  he? '  Then  they  all  want 
to  know  you.  Some  question  arises,  of 
importance;  you  make  another  speech. 
Judges  immediately  point  you  out  as  the 
man :  then  you  get  into  the  House,  make  a 
hit  there,  your  fortune's  made,  and  you're 
Lord  Chancellor — the  highest  dignity  in 
the  kingdom." 

As  he  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind 
as  to  my  future  position,  I  could  only  try 
to  see  it  in  the  same  light,  and  reply, 
"  Yes,"  though  I  felt  that  unless  there 
should  be  a  great  change  in  the  British 
Constitution,  some  considerable  time 
might  elapse  before  he  would  see  me  on 
the  woolsack.  This,  however,  I  kept  to 
myself,  and  admitted  to  my  uncle  that 
my  elevation  to  the  chancellorship  was 
not  such  a  very  improbable  thing  after 
all.  He  then  began  to  tell  me  stories  of 
ckancellors  who  had  begun  life  by  sweep- 
ing out  offices,  or  as  errand-boys,  or  by 
holding  horses,  until  I  secretly  regretted 
not  having  chosen  the  sweeping  profes- 
sion as  the  true  road  to  legal  preferment 

Being  upon  the  subject,  he  pointed  to 


the  example  of  Lord  Chancellor  Some- 
body, who  was  at  the  bar  for  ten  years 
without  getting  a  brief,  and  was  one  day 
about  to  throw  up  the  profession  in  dis- 
gust, and  enlist,  when  a  brief  came,  he 
spoke  splendidly,  and  his  fortune  was 
made.  I  realised  myself  in  that  portion 
of  the  history  where  he  hadn't  any  busi- 
ness ;  but  this  I  kept  to  myself. 

It  was  decided  that  I  should  go  to  the 
bar.  The  entrance  being  obtained  by 
either  passing  an  examination,  or  attend- 
ing a  course  of  lectures,  I  chose  the  latter, 
having  lost  confidence  in  myself  from 
experience  in  the  former  method.  1  had 
nearly  completed  the  appointed  number, 
when  I  made  a  mistake  in  the  day.  This 
I  explained  to  the  lecturer,  and  it  was 
overlooked.  But  in  the  following  week 
for  the  first  time  I  mistook  the  hour,  and 
arrived  when  the  door  was  shut,  the  last 
lecture  given,  and  the  Professor  gone  into 
the  country  for  his  vacation. 

A  friend  said  "  Oh,  go  in  for  the  Exam. 
Easy  as  possible." 

I  suggested  that  there  were  legal  diffi- 
culties which  would  pose  me.  His  an- 
swer was  confidently,  "Not  a  bit.  All 
law  is  founded  upon  the  principles  of 
common  sense.  Keduce  any  apparent 
legal  difficulty  to  first  principles,  and 
there  you  are."  (I  subsequently  tried 
this ;  and  certainly  there  I  was,  but  didn't 
get  any  farther.)  "But  technical  terms 
one  must  get  up,"  I  objected.  He  was 
quite  indignant. 

"  Technical  terms,"  he  replied,  "  can  be 
mastered  in  a  week's  reading." 

His  theory  was  that  hardly  any  law- 
yers know  anything  of  law:  that  the 
men  who  get  on  best  know  the  least; 
which  is,  to  the  beginner,  encouraging  as 
a  theory,  but  fails  when  reduced  to  prac- 
tice, or,  more  strictly  speaking,  when  you, 
as  a  barrister,  are  reduced  to  no  practice. 
However,  what  man  dared  I  dared,  and 
in  I  went.  I  read  my  paper  through 
carefully :  it  didn't  seem  to  contain  much 
law  that  I  was  acquainted  with ;  but  re- 
membering my  friend's  advice  about 
"  first  principles  "  and  "  common  sense," 
I  settled  down  to  one  question.  It  was 
this: 

"  Why  is  notice  of  a  prior  incumbrance, 
&c.,  which  ought  to  be,  but  is  not,  regis- 
tered in  a  County  Eegistry,  effectual  to 
observe  priority  ? '' 

I  tried  to  reduce  this  to  principles  of 


94 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


common  sense.  After  much  thought,  it 
struck  me  that  perhaps  if  I  commenced  the 
answer  on  paper  it  would  come  right  of 
itself  somehow.  So  I  began  slowly  on  a 
large  sheet  and  with  a  big  B  up  in  one 

corner,  "  Because " — yes,  exactly,  be- 

caute  why  f  It  looked  like  the  answer  to 
a  riddle.  I  glanced  round  at  my  neigh- 
hours  ;  they  were  all  scribbling  away  at 
various  rates,  heads  down,  well  at  their 
work.  The  examiner  had  his  eye  on  me, 
so  I  made  a  feint  to  be  thinking  deeply, 
and  scratched  out  "  Because,"  slowly,  and 
then  wrote  it  again,  in  a  different  charac- 
ter, on  another  sheet  of  paper.  After  a 
few  minutes  I  found  that  I  had  only  been 
sketching  fancy  portraits  of  little  exam- 
iners with  big  heads  all  about  the  page, 
with  an  occasional  reminiscence  of  the 
lineaments  of  Buller,  Fobbes  &  Grumbury. 
This  I  felt  wouldn't  pass  me,  so  I  made  a 
bold  jump  to  number  seven,  in  conse- 
quence of  recognising  the  word  "  mort- 
gage." 

"  No.  VII. — "Why  is  a  person  taking  a 
mortgage  of  property  and  knowing  that  it 
was  subject  to  an  equitable  mortgage,  post- 
poned to  the  latter  ?  " 

It  was  necessary  to  write  something,  so 
I  commenced  by  saying  that  "By  the 

word  mortgage  we  must  understand " 

this  I  scratched  out,  and  on  reconsidera- 
tion began  again  thus : — "  To  enter  into 
this  subject  as  fully  as  it  deserves,  we  must 
reduce  the  technical  question  to  the  first 
principles  of  common  sense."  There  I 
stopped.  It  was  no  good.  An  attempt  to 
hit  off  an  original  definition  of  "  Con- 
structive Fraud  "  was  also,  I  have  reason 
to  believe,  a  failure. 

As  an  example  of  Constructive  Fraud 
I  ventured  upon  the  instance  of  a  builder 
who  had  undertaken  to  erect  an  habitable 
and  solid  house  and  who  had  "  scamped  " 
his  work.  I  have  since  ascertained  that 
this  is  not  what  the  examiners  meant  by 
"  Constructive  Fraud." 

A  short-pointed  question,  evidently 
framed  by  a  brisk  examiner,  caught  my 
eye.  "  No.  X.— What  is  Replevin  ?"  I 
did  not  like  to  reply  on  paper  that  it  was 
made  up  of  the  words  "Re  "  and  "plevin" 
which  was  the  only  answer  that  suggested 
itself  to  me  after  looking  at  it  for  five 
minutes ;  so  I  put  this  on  one  side,  and, 
like  a  Mazeppa  among  the  examination 
questions,  again  I  urged  on  my  wild  ca- 
reer. 


Page  3.  On  the  second  paper :  Crimi- 
nal Law.  "  If  a  prisoner  has  received 
judgment,  and  the  sentence  be  afterwards 
reversed  by  a  Court  of  Error,  can  he  be 
again  indicted  for  the  same  offence  ?  " 

Here  I  was  at  home  at  last.  "  No,"  I 
wrote  boldly.  "  He  could  not  be  indicted 
for  the  same  offence,  because," — now  came 
an  opportunity  for  a  specimen  of  my  style; 
the  examiners  could  judge  from  this  what 
an  acquisition  I  should  be  to  the  bar  as  an 
advocate, — "  because  it  is  the  glorious 
privilege  of  a  native  Englishman,  of  one 
whose  birthright  is  to  call  himself  free  and 
never  to  know  slavery," — this  was,  I  felt, 
a  too  evident  paraphrase  on  the  chorus  or 
"Rule  Britannia;"  but  it  looked  well, 
and  would  succeed  admirably  if  de- 
claimed,— "to  be  charged  only  once  with 
the  same  offence  ;  and  being  convicted,  or 
unconvicted,  it  mattered  not,  he  could 
never,  never," — "  Rule  Britannia  "  again : 
I  ought  to  have  given  my  attention  to 
maritime  law  — "  be  again  placed  at  the 
bar  before  twelve  of  his  fellow-country- 
men, ready  to  take  his  stand  for  the  of- 
fence once  committed,  and  " — here  I  felt 
I  was  getting  weak,  and  might  lapse  into 
unconscious  verbiage,  so  pulled  up  with — 
"  in  fact  it  was  totally  against  the  princi- 
ples of  English  law,  and  English  common 
sense,  on  which  all  law  was  founded,"- 
this  came  in  well, — "  to  try  a  man  twice 
for  only  one  offence."  After  this  effort  I 
paused.  What  was  the  next  question? 
The  next  was  a  pendant  to  the  former,  and 
ran  thus : — 

"  Give  the  reason  for  your  answer" 

This  took  me  aback.  It  involved  read- 
ing my  answer  over  again.  I  could  see 
no  reason  for  it.  The  more  I  thought  of 
it  the  less  reason  I  could  see.  In  fact  the 
whole  case  came  gradually  to  assume  a 
totally  different  complexion.  Why 
shouldn't  a  man  be  tried  twice  if  he  de- 
served it,  or  could  be  caught  again? 
"  Caught  again  ! "  That  suggested  a  new 
train  of  thought.  Perhaps  the  question 
turned  upon  this  supposition.  Yet,  if  so, 
it  was  absurdly  like  the  receipt  attributed 
to  Glasse  in  her  cookery  boos,  of  "  First 
catch  your  hare,"  and  I  couldn't  very 
well  write  that  down,  as  it  might  look 
like  impertinence  towards  the  examiner 
or  benchers,  or  whoever  they  were  who 
had  to  read  these  papers.  "  Give  the  rea- 
son for  your  answer."  No,  I  could  not  see 
any.  There  was  no  reason  for  it,  except 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


that   I   "didn't  know   any   other."     I'd 
leave  it,  and  pretend  I  hadn't  seen  it. 

Here  was  a  simple  one,  almost  pretty  in 
its  simplicity,  "  Wnat  constitutes  the  crime 
of  larceny  ?  " 

"  Taking  a  pocket-handkerchief,"  was 
the  first  answer  that  arose  to  my  lips.  But 
why  only  a  pocket-handkerchief?  That 
wouldn't  do.  "  To  take  anything.^  That 
sounded  like  an  invitation  to  luncheon — 
Would  I  take  anything?  Ton  my  word, 
I  say  to  myself,  one  ought  to  know  what 
larceny  is.  It  was  mere  quibbling  to  say 
it  was  theft.  No.  The  vivd  voce  portion 
commenced. 

"  Could  I,"  I  was  asked,  "  state  some 
cases  in  which  an  indictment  would  lie 
for  words  spoken  ?  " 

Could  I  ?  No,  I  couldn't,  but  I  would 
try.  "An  indictment  would  lie,"  I  be- 
gan, sticking  closely  to  the  form  of  the 
question,  "  for  words  spoken  when  " — here 
I  considered.  The  examiner  waited.  He 
didn't  suggest  anything,  so  I  began  again 
— "words  spoken, — that  is, — in  words 
spoken,  an  indictment  would  lie" — a 
sudden  inspiration.  I  had  mistaken  the 
sense  of  the  word  lie.  I  had  it,  and  fin- 
ished brilliantly,  "An  indictment,  in  fact, 
would  lie,  if  it  said,  for  instance,  that 
such  and  such  words  " — I  lengthened  it 
out  on  purpose  to  give  a  legal  tone  to  my 
explanation — "  said  to  have  been  spoken 
had  not  been  spoken."  The  examiner 
looked  up  and  asked  me  if  I  had  under- 
stood his  question.  On  my  replying  per- 
fectly, he  thanked  me,  and  told  me  I 
might  go.  He  had  had  enough  of  me. 
But  I  was  beginning  to  take  rather  a  fancy 
to  him.  I  should  have  liked  to  have  en- 
gaged him  in  general  conversation.  We 
should  have  understood  one  another  then. 
He  made  a  note  of  my  name,  and  it  was 
intimated  to  me  the  next  morning  that 
further  attendance  on  my  part  in  Lincoln's 
Inn  Hall  would,  for  the  present,  be  dis- 
pensed with. 

I  subsequently  ascertained  that,  in  ad- 
dition to  giving  this  inspired  answer,  I 
had  sent  up  my  papers  with  my  only 
answer  mixed  by  mistake  with  two  sheets 
full  of  grotesque  examiners,  admirably 
drawn  by  me  with  large  heads  and  little 
legs.  This  was  my  mistake  at  Lincoln's 
Inn.  Subsequently  I  completed  my  at- 
tendance on  the  lectures  and  at  the  din- 
ners, was  called  to  the  bar,  sat  down  by 
mistake  (on  that  occasion)  next  to  one  of 


the  judges  of  the  land  at  the  bencher's 
table,  and  was  politely  removed  by  the 
butler. 

After  this  I  went  to  a  conveyancer's.  .  . . 
with  what  advantage  to  myself  and  my 
Aunt  will  be  shown  in  the  following  his- 
tory of 

MY  AUNT'S  GREAT  POLICE  CASE. 


MY  AUNT'S  GREAT  POLICE  CASE. 
CHAPTER     I. 

HER  LEGACY— ITS  DUTIES — COMPLICATIONS 
— MY  LEGAL  TRAINING — THE  CONVEY- 
ANCER'S CHAMBERS— MY  AUNT'S  HUN- 
DRED— HER  RECENT  IMPROVEMENT — A 
VISIT — A  CONSULTATION — PUTTING  UP— 
RESULT — THE  CABMAN — DIFFICULTIES—- 
RESCUE— NIGHT  AND  MORNING — AN  IN- 
TERVAL—SECOND APPEARANCE  OF  MY 
AUNT — STARTLING  INTELLIGENCE. 

MY  Aunt  had  something  left  her  by 
Somebody.  She  was  under  the  impres- 
sion that  she  had  only  to  mention  the 
fact  to  another  Somebody  somewhere  in 
the  City,  and  she  would  get  it. 

On  making  the  application  to  this 
Somebody  in  the  City,  who  turned  out  to 
be  a  Company,  and  Limited,  she  was  in- 
formed that  she  couldn't  get  her  money 
for  at  least  three  months.  Whereupon 
she  sent  to  her  banker,  and  informed  him 
that  she  couldn't  have  the  money  for 
three  months.  At  the  end  of  three 
months  she  wrote  to  the  banker,  who 
wrote  to  the  Company  Limited,  and  the 
Company  Limited,  in  the  politest  manner 
possible,  wrote  to  him,  and  asked  for  the 
necessary  papers. 

Then  the  banker  referred  the  question 
to  my  Aunt.  "  Goodness !"  said  my 
Aunt,  who  began  to  see  difficulties,  "  Do 
they  take  me  for  a  swindler  ?" 

It  then  struck  her  that  the  Limited  was 
pretending  to  forget  her  claim ;  so  she 
found  the  papers.  Having  sent  these  to 
her  banker,  and  her  banker  having  for- 
warded them  to  the  Company  Limited", 
the  politest  possible  message  was  returned, 
to  the  effect,  that,  though  the  papers  were 
perfectly  satisfactory  as  far  as  they  went 
(''Do  they  think  I'm  a  forger?"  exclaimed 
my  Aunt  indignantly),  yet  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  she  should  take  out 
Letters  of  Administration. 

"  Now,  what  Letters  of  Administration 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


are,  or  how  you  take  them  out,  or  where 
you  take  them  out  to,  I  know  no  more," 
said  iny  Aunt,  helplessly,  "  than  the  Man 
in  the  Moon." 

Hitherto  my  Aunt  had  always  receivec 
her  dividends  regularly,  had  not  enterec 
into  investments,  nor  into  speculations, 
and  had  never  been  an  Administratrix, 
Being  suddenly  placed  in  this  position, 
the  ordinary  calm  of  her  life  seemed  to 
have  vanished. 

On  receiving  this  fresh  advice  from  the 
City  concerning  the  Letters  of  Adminis- 
tration, she  thought  over  the  matter  all 
tie  morning,  made  nothing  of  it,  came  to 
a  decision,  and  telling  her  maid  (she  now 
lives  in  lodgings  with  Doddridge)  to  get 
a  cab,  she  drove  down  to  see  me. 

I  am  her  resort  in  difficulties.  She  is 
under  the  impression  that,  because  I  hap- 
pen to  have  been  called  to  the  Bar,  and 
to  have  "  read  "  in  a  Conveyancer's  cham- 
bers, I  must  be  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  Law,  and,  as  a  relation,  will  give 
her  good  sound  advice,  thus  obviating  a 
consultation  with  a  solicitor,  which  she 
associates,  indistinctly  and  generally,  with 
the  Police  Courts,  Old  Bailey,  and  witness 
boxes. 

"  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  Law,  my  dear,"  my  Auritsaysto  me. 
''  But  I  don't  mind  coming  to  you"  which, 
seeing  that  I  am  a  barrister,  is  scarcely 
complimentary  to  my  legal  knowledge. 
Perhaps  she  little  knows, — in  fact  I  am 
sure  she  little  knows  what  a  very  small 
amount  of  Law  I  managed  to  bring  away 
from  the  Temple  Lecture  rooms  and  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Hall,  in  exchange  for  regular 
payments  for  dinners  (which,  after  the 
first  few  indispensable  ones,  I  never  ate), 
attendance  on  Lecturers  (where  I  had 
made  some  very  pleasant  acquaintances, 
and  got  through  a  deal  of  light  literature), 
a  wig,  a  gown  (sold  afterwards,  at  a  loss, 
to  a  friend),  some  law  books,  enormous 
precedent  books  (which  subsequently  be- 
came account-books,  scrap-books,  odds- 
and-ends  books),  and  a  hundred  pounds 
to  a  Conveyancing  Barrister  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  having  a  place  to  sit  in,  when  I 
visited  Lincoln's  Inn,  in  the  company  of 
four  pleasant  young  gentlemen  of  more  or 
less  studious  habits,  but  with  very  clear 
ideas  on  the  subject  of  luncheon  at  one 
o'clock  daily. 

If  that  Conveyancer  had  ever  called  me 
into  his  room,  and  in  a  fit  of  remorse  had 


said,  "  You  paid  a  hundred  pounds  to 
learn  something ;  you  have  learnt  no- 
thing. Here  is  your  hundred  pounds," 
I  should  have  looked  upon  him  as  a  man 
doing  nothing  more  than  his  duty.  By 
what  legal  quibble  he  ever  justified  him- 
self, to  himself,  for  keeping  my  money  is 
a  puzzle  to  me.  But  I  suppose  he  went 
by  precedent,  that  being  his  rule  in  all 
possible  cases. 

So  my  Aunt  (who,  by  the  way,  is  the 
real  sufferer  in  this  case,  as  it  was  her 
hundred  pounds)  comes  to  me  on  every 
occasion  when  she  requires  legal  advice, 
taking  this  as  a  sort  of  interest  for  her 
money  invested.  She  has  lately  become 
less  nervous  than  when  we  were  together 
at  Kamsgate,  and  her  tears  no  longer  flow 
upon  the  slightest  provocation.  She  is 
in  appearance  less  of  the  Lady  Abbess 
than  formerly,  and  exhibits,  except  in 
this  particular  instance,  more  self-reliance. 
From  which  I  gather  that  something  has 
happened ;  but  as  to  what  that  something 
is,  I  am  profoundly  ignorant.  It  can't  be 
(at  least  I  should  imagine  it  impossible 
that  she  has  been  on  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy, and  that  this  Legacy  has  saved 
her.  One  of  these  days,  perhaps,  she  will 
admit  me  to  her  confidence. 

She  drives  down  in  a  Hansom  cab 
("Four-wheelers  and  Fevers  begin  with 
F,"  she  says — from  which  it  may  be  in- 
ferred that  my  Aunt  has  become  quite 
sprightly)  to  my  retired  cottage,  about 
ten  miles  out  of  town,  and  the  driver 
"  puts  up  "  during  the  consultation. 

The  consultation  lasts  for  four  hours, 
including  the  dinner  hour,  and  the  result 
is  that  "  she  must  consult  a  solicitor." 

The  consultation  (with  me)  consists  of 
her  showing  me  the  banker's  letters,  the 
Company's  replies,  her  letters,  then  her 
written  suspicions  of  the  Company,  then 
her  explanations  as  to  her  fear  that  the 
banker  wasn't  taking  much  trouble  about 
the  matter,  then  of  her  anxiety  lest  some 
other  claimant,  some  other  Administrator, 
might  step  in  (this  was  her  great  dread), 
and  claim  the  whole  sum,  whatever  it 
was.  "In  which  case,"  she  continues, 
'  you  know  there  would  be  law  proceed- 
ngs ;  and/'  she  adds,  with  some  amount 
of  family  pride,  and  with  a  view  to  the 
nterest  on  the  aforesaid  Conveyancer's 
lundred  pounds,  "you  could  appear  for 
me."  We  then  get  out  a  Law  Dictionary 
date  1720),  and  she  is  much  impressed 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


97 


by  an  article  headed  "  Administrators," 
extracts  from  which  she  takes  to  be  the 
part  of  the  results  of  my  vast  legal  erudi- 
tion, and  consequently  as  so  much  inter- 
est on  her  capital  to  which  she  is  entitled. 

The  consultation  being  finished,  the 
cab  is  sent  for. 

The  process  of  "  putting  up  "  for  several 
hours  has  had  a  considerable  effect  on  the 
driver,  who,  on  being  asked  if  he  recol- 
lects the  address  he  had  driven  from  in 
the  afternoon  (it  is  now  past  ten  at  night), 
replies,  hazily,  "  Rightchar,"  meaning,  it 
is  supposed,  "  Right  you  are ;  "  adding  an 
exhortation  to  my  Aunt  to  "  Step  up,  will 
yer?" 

"That  man  is  drunk,"  I  say,  judicially, 
to  the  servant.  The  servant  is  uncertain. 
A  friend  stopping  with  me  agrees  with 
me,  but  is  inclined  to  give  him  a  chance. 
My  Aunt  doesn't  believe  in  his  inebriety, 
but  proposes  some  theory  about  the  night- 
air  and  the  uncertain  light.  The  man 
himself  denies  the  imputation  warmly. 

Not  wishing  for  a  row  (which  means, 
in  a  general  way,  "  having  my  head 
punched  ")  I  assist  my  Aunt  into  the  cab. 

We  wish  her  good-bye,  but  wait  to  see 
the  start. 

This  is  difficult,  owing  to  the  driver 
being  unsettled  in  his  mind  as  to  where 
the  road  lies.  First  he  pulls  the  reins  so 
as  to  back  the  cab  against  the  palings ; 
then  (still  explaining  to  us  from  his  perch 
that  he  was  only  "  trying  to  take  the  best 
turning")  he  pulls  the  horse  round  with 
the  right  rein,  which  resulting  in  no  pro- 
gress at  all,  he  changes  for  the  left. 

Upon  this,  we  beseech  my  Aunt  to 

fet  out,  the  man  being,  unquestionably, 
runk. 

The  driver,  hearing  this,  vehemently 
contradicts  us,  and  attempts  to  explain 
that  the  horse  couldn't  go  on  straight  be- 
cause the  reins  were  twisted. 

"  Untwist  them  then,  you  idiot,"  says 
my  friend.  I  wish  at  the  moment  he 
wouldn't  call  the  man  names,  or  if  he 
does  that  he  wouldn't  stand  safely  inside 
our  gate  and  do  it,  where  the  man  couldn't 
see  him,  and  would  think  the  voice  came 
from  me.  The  driver,  however,  doesn't 
notice  this ;  but  descends  from  his  seat  (a 
dangerous  and  perfectly  unnecessary 
operation),  in  order  to  adopt  my  friend's 
advice  and  untwist  the  reins. 

All  he  does  is  to  tug  at  the  horse's  head 
and  swear  a  little,  which  probably  re- 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


lieves  his  brain  considerably,  as  he  is 
able  to  climb  up  again,  after  not  more 
than  three  false  slips.  Again  on  his  box, 
his  pulling  at  the  unfortunate  animal's 
head  becomes  more  violent,  when,  seeing 
him  about  to  back  into  the  ditch,  we  rush 
towards  the  cab  and  receive  my  Aunt 
in  our  arms,  anyhow,  like  a  parcel  out  of 
a  van  at  a  luggage  office. 

Then  we  shut  the  gate  on  the  man,  and 
leave  him.  He  rings  the  bell  at  intervals 
for  an  hour  afterwards  ;  but,  attracting  no 
attention,  he,  it  is  supposed,  drives  off. 
How  far  he  got,  or  if  he  ever  reached 
London  at  all  that  night,  is  to  this  day  a 
matter  of  great  uncertainty.  My  Aunt 
has  the  spare  room,  and  next  morning 
goes  to  her  solicitor. 

***** 

Some  days  afterwards  she  comes  down 
again,  this  time  in  a  fly. 

"  Letters  of  Administration  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  No,  my  dear !  "  she  cries,  in  an  almost 
fainting  state.  "I'm  summoned/" 

"  Summoned !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  she  replies,  "  to  a  Police  Court. 
That  Cabman  I  To-morrow  I  shall  be  a 
prisoner.  Tell  me  what  they  can  do  to 
me." 


CHAPTER  II. 

PROSECUTOR. —  PRISONER.— DEFENDANT. 
QUESTIONS  OF  CRIMINAL  LAW. — COMFORT. 
— A  POSER.— CHANGE  OF  CHARACTER. — 
STRANGE. — MISS  SOMEBODY. — CASE  FOR 
THE  CHANCELLOR. — OR  JURY. — QUESTION 
OF  COSTUME. — THE  MARTYR.— TOUCHING 
FAREWELL. — A  DEMAIN. 

I  TOLD  her  that  being  "  summoned  " 
only  meant  that  she  was  to  attend  at  a 
police-court. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  exclaimed  my  Aunt ; 
"  and  be  in  the  papers  next  day,  with  only 
my  Christian  name,  and  nothing  before 
it!  Besides,"  she  added,  as  if  seeing  it  in 
a  totally  new  light,  ''one  doesn't  know 
what  sort  of  account  they'll  give  of  it." 

I  informed  her  that  there  were  twenty 
or  thirty  ordinary  summons  cases  occur- 
ring every  day  which  were  never  re- 
ported. 

I  don't  think  she  liked  this  mode  of 
summarily  dismissing  a  matter  of  all-ab- 
sorbing interest. 

"  Which  am  I,"  she  asked,  "  the  Prose- 
ctor or  the— the— what  is  it? — Prisoner?" 

7 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


**No,  not  exactly  Prisoner,"  I  said. 
"She  was,"  I  explained,  putting  it  as 
palatably  as  possible,  "  the  Defendant." 

This  seemed  to  alter  her  opinion  of  the 
importance  of  the  summons,  as  her  next 
question  was,  "  I  suppose  I  must  attend 
at  the  Court?" 

It  appeared  that  she  had  some  idea  of 
being  represented  by  her  maid.  This,  I 
informed  her,  was  impossible. 

"  Perhaps,  then,  I'd  better  have  a  Bar- 
rister." I  foresaw  that  she  had  in  view, 
as  usual,  the  interest  for  her  hundred 
pounds  paid  to  my  legal  tutor,  the  Con- 
veyancer, and  was  firmly  determined  to 
resist  any  such  proposal  as  that  of  my 
going  into  court  on  her  account. 

"  Barristers,  my  dear  Aunt,  are  not  re- 
quired in  such  a  case  as  this." 

"  But,"  she  argues,  evidently  consider- 
ing my  information  as  merely  given 
evasively,  and  for  a  selfish  consideration, 
"  but  some  nice  points  of  law  might  arise, 
you  know  ;  and  then  if  I  wasn't  prepared, 
you  know,  the  Cabman  might  win,  merely 
on  a  quibble.  Such  things  do  happen," 
she  added  seriously,  seeing  me  smile. 
"I'm  sure  you  read  of  them  every  day 
in  the  papers,  and  goodness  knows  I 
don't  want  to  argue  the  case  myself, 
and  perhaps  be  carried  up  to  higher 
Courts,  and  go  over  it  all  again  before 
a  Lord  Chancellor,  merely  for  the  sake 
of  thirty  shillings,  for  that's  what  he 
claims.1' 

I  assured  her  that  her  fears  were  per- 
fectly groundless. 

"  Indeed  ! "  she  returned,  triumphantly. 
"Then  why  do  we  read  of  Mr.  Somebody, 
the  Magistrate,  reserving  a  point,  and 
sending  it  up  to  a  higher  Court  ?  " 

I  began  an  explanation  of  "  why  the 
Magistrate  " — but,  failing  to  make  it  in- 
telligible, in  consequence,  I  admit,  of  not 
myself  distinctly  knowing  why  he  did 
anything  of  the  sort,  I  fell  back  upon  my 
old  position,  that  this  was  one  of  those 
cases  in  which  no  point  of  law  was  likely 
to  be  raised. 

My  Aunt  could  not  see  this.  This 
police  case  had  given  a  new  impetus  to 
her  placid  existence  ;  she  had  no  time  for 
tears,  or  hysterics,  and,  indeed,  appeared 
to  be  so  bitten  with  a  sort  of  Law  fever, 
that,  had  there  been  a  chance  offered  her, 
she  would,  I  believe,  have  then  and  there 
gone  down  to  the  first  Police-Court,  and 
requested  to  be  heard,  ex  parte,  on  the 


merits  of  her  own  personal  and  private 
view  of  the  case. 

"  Ladies  do  conduct  their  own  cases," 
she  observed,  with  dignity;  "because  I 
know  there's  a  Miss  Somebody  who's  al- 
ways coming  up,  over  and  over  again, 
and  speaking  for  years  in  the  House  of 
Lords;  but  I  think,"  my  Aunt  added 
more  to  herself  than  to  me,  "  that  at  the 
end  of  every  four  days  she's  generally  put 
out  of  Court  by  the  Usher." 

This  reminiscence  came  opportunely, 
as  my  Aunt  had  no  fancy  for  figuring  in 
such  a  scene  as  being  "  put  out  of  Court  " 
represented  to  her  mind.  Struggling  with 
the  Usher,  and  hitting  him  over  the  head 
with  a  blue  bag,  full  of  legal  papers  and 
red  tape,  was  the  least  that  could  be  done 
(so  she  evidently  thought)  in  defence  of 
her  right,  in  the  event  of  such  an  "  un- 
gentlemanly  order  being  made  by  the 
Lord  Chancellor." 

"It  will  take  place,"  she  informed  me, 
alluding  to  her  case  at  the  Police-Court, 
"  to-morrow  :  and  I'm  to  be  there  about 
twelve.  Talking  of  '  twelve,'  I  suppose," 
she  said,  as  if  rather  proud  of  her  legal 
knowledge,  "  that  I  shall  be  able  to  object 
to  the  jury  if  I  don't  like  them?  " 

Once  more  she  was  .disappointed  at 
hearing  from  me  that  at  a  Police-Court 
there  was  no  jury.  She  had  always 
thought  that  all  trials  were  by  jury.  After 
a  silence,  during  which  she  was  consider- 
ing this  extraordinary  defect  in  the  British 
Constitution,  she  startled  me  by  exclaim- 
ing, suddenly,  — 

"  And  no  wigs  ?  " 

My  shaking  my  head  depressed  her  im- 
mensely ;  it  brought  home  to  her  the  fact 
of  "  no  wigs  ''  in  the  liveliest  manner. 
She  was  getting  more  and  more  astonished 
at  every  revelation  concerning  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice. 

"But,"  —  she  asked,  in  a  tone  of  re- 
monstrance, as  much  as  to  say,  "  Come, 
this  won't  do,  you  know  ;  I  can't  really 
believe  you  if  you  deny  this  "  —  "  surely 
the  Magistrate  wears  a  wig  ?  " 

I  really  wished  he  did,  for  her  sake. 
She  looked  so  utterly  aghast  on  my  re- 
plying, "  No,  Aunt,  he  doesn't.  No  one 
wears  a  wig." 


"  No  one." 

"  It's  very  extraordinary,"  she  observed, 
in  a  musing  tone,  after  a  pause  ;  "  I  al- 
ways till  now  thought  they  wore 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


I  fancy  I've  seen  pictures  of  them  in 
wigs." 

Not  finding  me  in  a  humour  to  question 
this  effort  of  her  imagination,  she  looked 
at  her  watch,  and  reminding  me  that  I 
had  to  come  and  fetch  her  punctually  at 
eleven  ("so  as  to  be  in  time,  for  one  may 
have  to  push  through  a  tremendous  crush, 
and  Doddridge  is  no  sort  of  use  in  a 
crowd,"  she  said),  she  walked  down  the 
garden,  with  the  step  of  an  early  martyr 
going  to  the  stake  in  the  cause  of  Truth  ; 
and  shaking  my  hand  solemnly  (still  in 
the  same  sort  of  character  as  some  histori- 
cal personage  bidding  some  other  histori- 
cal personage  farewell  the  night  before 
the  execution)  she  entered  her  fly  (driver 
quite  sober  this  time),  and  drove  off, 
viewing  herself  as  Marie  Antoinette  taken 
to  her  doom,  in  a  tumbril,  at  the  instance 
of  a  Revolutionary  Cabman. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TO-MORROW  ARRIVES— THE  PALAIS  DE  JUS- 
TICE.— THE  CROWD. — PEARS. — INQUIRIES. 
— OFFICIALS.— UNFORTUNATE  SIMILE. — A 
PROSPECT. — THE  OFFICE. — THE  CLERKS. — 
THE  INSPECTOR.— MORE  OFFICIALS.— IN- 
FORMATION.—UNCERTAINTY.— THE  POLICE 
COURT. — INTERIOR. — SEATS.— THE  RUM 
LADY.--CONFIDENCES.— INTERESTING  CASE. 
OLD  PURKISS. — THE  ARRIVAL. 

ELEVEJT  O'CLOCK.  We  drive  up  to 
the  Police-Court,  and  get  as  near  as  we 
can  to  it ;  that  is,  the  cab  stops  at  the  en- 
trance of  an  alley,  and,  down  the  alley, 
among  a  number  of  squalid  dwellings  and 
opposite  a  flaring  public-house,  is  the 
Police-Court. 

"It's  a  shame,"  exclaims  my  Aunt, 
''that  they  don't  build  finer  places  for 
Police-Courts ! " 

She  would  have  had  a  Palace  of  Jus- 
tice specially  erected  for  this  occasion. 

We  came  upon  a  crowd  of  unwashed 
people  herding  about  the  entrance :  wo- 
men who  have  been  having  their  eyes 
blacked  with  a  few  strong  touches,  a  little 
blue  being  artistically  thrown  in,  and  dis- 
sipated, unshaven  ruffians  lounging 
against  the  walls,  with  the  air  of  habitute, 
as  no  doubt  they  are.  A  sort  of  dirty 
parody  on  fops'  alley  on  an  opera  night. 

We  struggle  into  the  passage. 

44 1  wonder  if  my  Cabman's  here  ? " 


my  Aunt  says.  We  have,  both,  a  sort  of 
feeling  that  he  may  dart  out  upon  us  vin- 
dictively, from  somewhere,  and  that  the 
police  will  side  with  him. 

"Where's  the  Court?"  says  my  Aunt 
to  me.  She  is  very  nervous  about  being 
on  the  spot  at  the  exact  time,  because  she 
has  heard  that  a  summoned  person,  not 
appearing,  is  immediately  committed  for 
contempt  of  Court." 

"  Is  this,"  I  ask,  addressing  a  Policeman, 
who,  I  suppose,  hears  me,  though  he 
doesn't  show  any  signs  of  doing  so,  f'  la 
this  the  way  to  the  Court?" 

The  official,  without  altering  his  posi- 
tion (he  is  leaning  against,  and,  as  it  were, 
across  the  door,  so  as  to  make  a  slanting 
barrier  of  himself,  and  perhaps  is  suspi- 
cious of  treachery  on  my  Aunt's  or  my 
part)  replies  "  Yes." 

I  inform  my  Aunt  that  this  is  the  way 
into  the  Court.  She  wishes  me  to  inquire 
if  the  Magistrate  is  in. 

I  think  over  this  for  a  minute,  and  con- 
sider how  to  put  the  question  pleasantly, 
and  yet  so  as  not  to  induce  the  Policeman 
to  think  I'm  laughing  at  him.  I  propose 
(to  myself)  to  put  it  thus :  "  Is  the  Magis- 
trate in  ?  "  but  that  looks  as  if  we  were 
merely  making  a  morning  call,  and  is,  on 
the  whole,  too  familiar.  The  same  objec- 
tion applies  to  "Is  the  Magistrate  at 
home?"  I  begin,  "Is  the  Magistrate 

"  and  am  going  to  say  "sitting?" 

but  it  occurs  to  me  that  this  treats  the 
Magistrate  like  a  hen. 

The  Policeman  helps  me  out.  Without 
yielding  an  inch  of  his  vantage  ground,  so 
as  to  be  prepared  against  any  attempt  at 
a  surprise  on  the  part  of  my  Aunt  or  my- 
self, he  says,  austerely,  "  He  ain't  come 
yet." 

"  0,  indeed  !    When  will  he  come  ?  " 

"  Don't  know." 

The  oracle  shuts  his  mouth,  and  is  si- 
lent. 

"And  we  shall  have  to  wait  ever  so 
long."  This  my  Aunt  whispers  to  me, 
nervously  indignant,  "Among  these  peo- 
ple !  Good  gracious !  I'm  sure  we  shall 
catch  something  horrid ! " 

I  fear  at  this  minute  that  there  will  be 
a  return  of  her  Ramsgate  hysterical  state. 
I  feel  too  that  the  atmosphere  and  the  ex- 
citement are  beginning  to  tell  upon  me. 
If  this  case  should  be  adjourned,  and  then 
indefinitely  prolonged  (I  don't  see  how  it 
could  be,  but  once  in  a  law  case  one  never 


100  MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


knows  the  result),  I  foresee  a  return  of  all 
my  old  symptoms,  and  the  necessity  of 
taking  myself  to  some  medicinal  course  in 
order  to  restore  "My  Health." 

A  door  is  open  on  our  left,  and  within 
I  see  a  desk,  two  Clerks,  and  a  Police- 
sergeant,  or  some  official  higher  than  an 
ordinary  Policeman,  engaged  in  looking 
over  a  large  ledger. 

As  an  ingenious  way  of  getting  out  of 
the  crowd,  I  suggest  our  stepping  into  this 
office. 

"Tell  them  you're  a  Barrister,"  my 
Aunt  whispers.  I  don't  see  what  good 
this  would  do;  and  if  I  did  tell  them,  in 
a  place  like  a  Police-Court  where  every- 
body is  suspected  and  suspicious,  how  am 
I  to  prove  it? 

We  step  in.  Nobody  takes  any  notice 
of  us,  so  I  propose  taking  notice  of  some- 
body, just  to  account  for  our  being  there. 

I  address  the  man,  who  looks  like  a 
clerk,  affably,  wondering  what  office  he 
holds,  and  whether  he  is  a  Clerk  or  not. 
My  Aunt  impresses  me  strongly  with  the 
necessity  of  being  civil — very  civil — to 
these  officials,  as  she  whispers  (she  does 
nothing  but  whisper  mysteriously  in  my 
ear),  this  may  be  of  use  to  us,  and  per- 
haps (this  is  her  leading  idea),  this  young 
man  may  be  the  Magistrate's  nephew. 
(It  turns  out  afterwards  that  she  once 
knew  a  Judge  who  made  his  nephew  the 
Clerk  of  Arraigns,  and  she  considers  it 
the  usual  thing. )  I  say  "  good-morning  " 
to  the  Clerk.  I  feel  instinctively  that  my 
Aunt  behind  me  is  smiling  on  him,  and  I 
iespise  myself,  and  her,  for  fawning  upon 
creatures  in  power :  but  I  do  it. 

The  Clerk  nods. 

"  I  suppose  we  may  step  in  here  till  the 
Magistrate  comes?  "  I  inquire,  still  pleas- 
antly. Fawning,  both  of  us. 

"  Yes,"  answers  the  Clerk,  carelessly. 

"Thank  you,  Sir,"  says  my  Aunt  grate- 
fully. 

I  am  not  sorry  for  this,  as  if  the  Cab- 
man is  outside  in  the  passage,  he  may  be 
attended  by  his  sympathising  friends,  and 
the  meeting  might  be  unpleasant.  We 
remain  in  the  office,  and  we  converse 
about  nothing  particular  in  whispers, 
until  I  begin  to  foresee  a  difficulty  in  re- 
gaining our  natural  tones. 

A  stout  man  buttoned  up  to  the  chin 
(an  inspector  probably),  walks  in. 

"Tomkins  and  Barker  down?"  asks 
the  last-comer  of  the  Sergeant. 


"Same  as  before,"  answers  the  latter, 
writing  on  a  bit  of  paper,  and  handing  it 
across  to  the  Clerk,  who  inspects  it,  and 
observes  that  "  It's  all  right." 

Then  the  Inspector  looks  at  the  Clerk, 
and  remarks  that  "  Time's  getting  on ;" 
then  the  Sergeant  closes  his  ledger,  locks 
it  up,  and  putting  a  bunch  of  keys  in  his 
pocket,  also  remarks  that  "  It  is  getting 
late ;"  whereupon  the  Clerk,  shutting  up 
his  book,  and  coming  out  from  behind 
his  enclosure,  caps  the  other  two  obser- 
vations by  saying  forcibly  that  "It  will 
be  later  afore  we've  done;"  at  which 
witticism  we,  in  our  character  of  syco- 
phants, feel  bound  to  smile,  and  do  so  ac- 
cordingly. 

The  ice  being  thus  broken,  I  ask,  on 
behalf  of  my  Aunt,  when  our  case  will 
come  on ;  at  least,  I  explain  (so  as  not  to 
lead  to  future  complications),  "  Not  my 
case,  but  this  lady's,  my  Aunt's ;"  this  I 
add  as  if  the  Clerk  had  been  my  bosom 
friend  for  years,  and  I  were  introducing 
my  relative  to  him. 

"Name?"  says  he.  I  give  the  name. 
"  It's  down  for  No.  two  on  the  list." 

"  It'll  be  taken  after  the  night  cases." 

"  When,"  ventures  my  Aunt,  timidly, 
"  do  you  think  it  will  be  heard?" 

"  Ah !  can't  say,"  returns  the  Clerk. 
"  You  see  a  message  has  just  come  down 
about  Mr.  Wigginthorpe's  having  met 
with  an  accident,  and  so  Mr.  Sharply  will 
run  up  from  t'other  Court,  when  he'g 
heard  the  cases  down  there." 

"  Good  gracious  !"  exclaims  my  Aunt, 
"  then  if  there  are  many  cases  at  the  other 
Court,  mine  mayn't  be  heard  for  hours." 

"P'raps  not,"  replies  the  Clerk,  care- 
lessly, and  turns  to  speak  to  a  friend  who 
has  dropped  in  to  have  a  chat  by  thefire. 

The  Inspector  corroborates  the  Clerk's 
statement.  Mr.  Sharply  will  be  quick 
enough  when  he  does  come,  but  that  may 
be  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  that  very 
minute,  or  not  for  two  hours  yet. 

The  glorious  uncertainty  of  the  Law  is 
on  this  occasion  represented  by  Mr. 
Sharply. 

"Perhaps,"  my  Aunt  thinks,  "the 
Cabman  will  get  tired  of  waiting,  and 
then  won't  appear,  after  all." 

This  idea  of  tiring  out  the  Cabman  is  a 
congenial  one  to  my  Aunt's  mind,  and  if 
we  could  only  have  some  luncheon,  the 
morning  would  not  hang  so  heavily  on  our 
hands,  as,  at  present,  it  most  certainly  does, 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


101 


We  are  becoming  quite  accustomed  to 
the  Police-Office,  and  almost  attached  to 
its  fire,  when  the  Sergeant  intimates,  sotto 
voce,  that  if  we  like  to  sit  down  inside  the 
Court  until  the  Magistrate  comes,  he  can 
let  us  in. 

He  puts  this  as  a  favour,  in  the  same 
sort  of  confidential  manner  that  a  Railway 
Guard  offers  to  keep  a  carriage  for  you 
for  "  the  through  journey."  I  discover, 
subsequently,  that  we  could  have  walked 
in  without  this  permission. 

I  put  my  hand  in  my  waistcoat  pocket, 
hinting  at  a  shilling  (which  I  subsequent- 
ly give  him,  and  feel  I  am  suborning  a 
probable  witness),  and  we  are  passed  in, 
the  official,  forming  the  slanting  barrier 
afore-mentioned,  withdrawing  himself  to 
let  us  pass.  I  fancy  the  Sergeant  and 
that  official  will  share  my  shilling. 

In  Court,  Small  room.  Dirty  represen- 
tatives of  the  general  public  behind  a 
wooden  railing.  In  front  of  them  the 
dock.  In  the  centre,  at  a  table  covered 
with  green  baize,  are  seated  elderly  re- 
spectable gentlemen,  looking  as  if  they'd 
all  had  their  black  waistcoats  cut  out  of 
the  same  piece  of  satin.  They  have  pa- 
pers before  them,  and  are  (we  hit  upon  it 
at  once)  the  Solicitors.  On  their  left  is  a 
something  between  a  pew  and  a  school- 
desk.  One  man  sits  there.  "  A  reporter," 
I  suggest,  and  he  becomes  immediately 
an  object  of  intense  interest  to  my  Aunt. 
On  the  right  is  a  Policeman  in  a  private 
box,  reading  a  newspaper.  At  the  other 
end  of  the  room  is  a  raised  stage,  as  if  for 
a  performance.  It  is  fitted  with  a  table- 
desk,  a  chair,  and  a  screen  to  conceal  a 
door  in  the  wall.  Quite  gives  one  the 
idea  of  an  entertainment.  Magistrate 
suddenly  to  appear  from  behind  screen, 
taking  every  one  by  surprise,  and  then 
going  through  a  round  of  favourite  char- 
acters, changing  his  dress  and  wigs  under 
his  table,  and  popping  up  as  somebody 
else.  Solicitors  in  front  to  represent 
stalls,  or  orchestra. 

Clerk  sits  just  below  and  in  front  of  the 
table-desk.  He  is  placed  sideways,  and 
appears  to  be  peculiarly  uncomfortable, 
having  evidently  insufficient  room  for  his 
legs,  which,  if  stretched,  would,  as  it  were, 
stand  out  by  themselves,  and  spoil  the 
picture. 

"  Where  are  we  to  go  ?"  my  Aunt  asks, 
nervously. 

As  we  can't  ioin  the  public  behind  the 


rail,  and  will  be  certainly  out  of  place 
with  the  Policeman  in  his  private  box 
(only  licensed  to  hold  one),  I  choose  the 
pew  where  the  Reporter  is. 

We  seat  ourselves,  and  listen  to  the 
Solicitors,  who  are  laughing  and  chatting 
loudly,  chiefly  (it  appears  from  the  con- 
versation, which  is  almost  unintelligible 
to  us)  on  professional  matters. 

A  lady,  smelling  strongly  of  rum,  joins 
us  in  the  pew.  She  is  much  interested  in 
what  we  may  be  here  for. 

"  Is  it  an  assault  case  ?"  she  asks  my 
Aunt. 

"  O  dear  no,"  replies  my  Aunt ;  "  it's 
only  a  summons.'' 

She  says  this  as  if  there  was  nothing 
out  of  the  way  in  her  being  here  for  such 
an  ordinary  affair. 

"Summons  for  assault,"  persists  the 
Rum  Lady,  eyeing  my  Aunt  as  if  con- 
trasting her  muscular  power  with  her  own. 

I  come  to  her  relief.  I  explain,  "A 
summons  for  a  cab-fare." 

"  0  !"  says  the  Rum  Lady,  her  interest 
evidently  considerably  diminished;  ad- 
ding proudly,  "  Mine's  assault." 

We  both  say  "  Indeed !"  and  my  Aunt 
edges  away  from  her  towards  the  Reporter. 
The  Rum  Lady,  being  once  started,  pro- 
ceeds to  inform  us  that  her  landlady 
(whom  she  points  out  in  the  crowd  behind 
the  rail — a  villainous-looking  one-eyed 
hag)  had  accused  her  of  stealing  the 
counterpane  and  sheets. 

"But  you  didn't?"  I  say,  compassion- 
ately. 

"  Didn't  I"  she  exclaims,  in  an  ener- 
getic under-tone.  "  I  soon  showed  her  I 
didn't."  She  is  a  big  powerful  woman, 
and,  with  rum,  a  decidedly  awkward  cus- 
tomer. I  apologise ;  "  I  mean,"  I  ex- 
plain, "that  she  is  here  wrongfully  ac- 
cused." Upon  this  she  winks  slowly  at 
me  first,  and  then  nudges  my  Aunt  to 
enjoy  the  joke.  This  freemasonry  being 
finished,  she  assumes  an  air  of  great  cau- 
tion, and  whispers  to  us  to  take  care,  as 
Old  Purkiss  is  looking,  adding,  "  I  'ate 
that  Purkiss." 

We  ascertained  that  Purkiss,  the  object 
of  her  detestation,  is  one  of  the  respecta- 
ble-looking elderly  gentlemen  at  the  table. 
"  He's  often  been  against  me,  he  has," 
she  continues,  always  in  a  whisper,  and 
avoiding  the  eye  of  old  Purkiss,  who  is,  it 
seems,  on  this  memorable  occasion  also, 
engaged  by  the  opposite  side. 


102 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


An  hour  passes  in  this  lively  manner. 
I  think  we  all  take  to  watching  Old  Pur- 
kiss  ;  if  we  flag  at  all  in  this  interesting 
occupation,  the  Bum  Lady  nudges  me, 
and  nodding  towards  him,  whispers, 
"  That  Purkiss  I "  fiercely.  "  Well,"  says 
my  Aunt,  who  is  beginning  to  feel  faint, 
"I'd  sooner  have  paid  the  man  twice 
over  than  have  gone  through  this."  The 
clock  strikes  two;  there  is  a  slight  stir 
among  the  Solicitors  and  their  papers. 
The  Policeman  folds  up  his  newspaper, 
and  evidently  means  business.  Two  other 
Policemen  come  in,  the  clerk  sits  upright 
in  his  chair  and  poises  a  pen.  In  another 
second  there  is  a  bang  and  a  slam,  the 
screen  shakes,  and  a  little  gentleman 
bounds  from  behind  it  (quite  in  keeping 
with  my  first  idea  of  an  entertainment), 
and  brings  himself  up  with  a  jerk  behind 
the  desk-table,  on  which  he  places  both 
hands. 

The  Reporter  informs  us,  in  an  under- 
tone, that  this  is  Mr.  Sharply,  the  Magis- 
trate. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  MAGISTRATE.— HIS  ADDRESS.— FIRST 
SOLICITOR. — AN  IMPORTANT  CASE. — THE 
WAVERER. — AN  ASSAULT  CASE. — A  WAN- 
BERING  WITNESS. — NEXT  CASE. — M  A  N 
WITH  THE  BAG.— AN  APPLICATION.— PER- 
SISTENCE.— IMPATIENCE.— TIME. — L  U  C I  D 
STORY. — REMOVAL. — NEXT  CASE. — THE 
VAGRANT. — A  DECISION. — NEXT  CASE. — 
ON  WE  GO  AGAIN. 

MR.  SHARPLY  I  notice  has  a  quick  eye 
and  a  surprised  head  of  hair,  which  gives 
one  the  idea  of  his  having  been  interrupt- 
ed in  the  process  of  being  brushed  by 
machinery. 

He  has  a  brisk,  crisp  manner,  and  is 
evidently  inclined  to  be  what  people  call 
"  short "  with  everyone  present — specially 
the  Clerk  and  the  Solicitors. 

He  stands  up  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  is  not  to  be  badgered  or  put  down, 
and  places  his  hands  on  the  table-desk  in 
such  a  springy  and  elastic  way  as  to  sug- 
gest, that,  on  the  slightest  provocation,  he 
will  vault  over,  dash  in  among  the  papers 
and  inkstands  on  the  Solicitors'  table, 
11  scatter  his  enemies,  and  make  them  fall." 

Everybody's  breath  is  quite  taken  away 
by  his  sudden  and  unexpected  appear- 
ance. We  are  all,  so  to  speak,  staggered. 


While  animation,  as  it  were,  is  being 
restored,  Mr.  Sharply  observes,  rapidly, 
"Gentlemen,  I  regret  the  accident  that 
brings  me  here— I  have  a  great  deal  of 
business  in  the  other  Court  which  I 
haven't  got  through,  and  to  which  I  must 
return — Therefore,  I  am  sure  I  may  rely 
upon  you,  Gentlemen,  to  assist  in  pushing 
on  the  business  here  as  quickly  as  possible 

•Now,  what  is  it?" 

This  sudden  interrogation  is  addressed 
to  a  Solicitor  who  has  risen  in  front  of  the 
Magistrate. 

The  Solicitor  will  not,  he  says,  detain 
the  Magistrate  one  second  longer  than  he 
can  help 

Here  Mr.  Sharply  cuts  him  short  with, 
"Well,  well,  what  is  it?  What's  the 
case  ?  " 

"The  fact  is,"  says  the  Solicitor,  evi- 
dently not  accustomed  to  this  way  of  do- 
ing business,  "  the  fact  is  " — here  he  puts 
on  his  spectacles — "  that  I  have  an  appli- 
cation to  make  to  you,  Sir," — here  he  pro- 
duces some  papers,  and  Mr.  Sharply,  who 
has  been  leaning  forward  on  his  elbows, 
as  if  to  give  him  every  attention,  now  sets 
himself  bolt  upright  again,  as  if  deter- 
mined to  do  nothing  of  the  sort. 

The  Solicitor  continues,  "  It  arises,  Sir, 
out  of  an  ejectment " 

This  word  sets  Mr.  Sharply  off. 

"  We  really  haven't  any  time  for  this. 
It  must  go  to  another  Court.  Call  the 
next  case?" 

A  Wavering  Policeman,  whose  duty  it 
is  to  call  the  next  case,  looks  from  the 
Solicitor  to  the  Magistrate,  helplessly. 

The  Solicitor  persists.  "  An  assault, 
Sir,  arising  out  of  an  ejectment."  The 
word  "  assault "  catches  Mr.  Sharply 's 
ear,  and,  with  considerable  asperity,  he 
says,  "  Well,  where  is  he?  " 

"He?"  says  the  Solicitor,  astonished. 

"  Yes,"  repeats  the  Magistrate,  "  where 
is  he — the  complainant?  Now,  my  dear 
Sir,  do  make  haste!  " 

The  Solicitor  explains  that  the  com- 
plainant is  a  "  she." 

"  Well,"  says  the  irascible  Mr.  Sharply, 
in  a  tone  that  means  anything  but "  well " 
— "Where  is  she?  Do  get  on."  And 
here  he  looks  at  his  watch. 

Mrs.  Somebody  is  thereupon  called, 
and  comes  into  the  witness-box.  She  is 
rather  vague,  to  commence  with,  on  the 
subject  of  her  name,  but  having  succeed- 
ed in  making  the  Clerk  understand  it 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


103 


(Mr.  Sharply,  to  expedite  matters,  posi- 
tively invents  a  name,  which  the  com- 
plainant repudiates),  she  waits  to  be 
asked  a  question. 

The  Solicitor  commences — "  You  were, 
I  believe,  in " 

"Mow,"  interrupts  Mr.  Sharply,  "  Do 
let  her  tell  her  own  story !  We  must  get 
on." 

This,  however,  turns  out  to  be  about 
the  worst  way  of  "  getting  on  "  that  could 
have  been  hit  upon,  as  the  complainant's 
story  is  chiefly  about  what  Somebody  else 
said  (which  the  Magistrate  won't  hear), 
and  what  she  told  Somebody  else  to  tell  a 
third  person  not  present  (which  the  Mag- 
istrate won't  receive  as  evidence). 

"  I  really  can't  listen  to  this,"  says  Mr. 
Sharply,  frowning  at  the  Solicitor,  as 
much  as  to  say  "  You  ought  to  know  bet- 
ter." Then,  to  the  Policeman,  "  Call  the 
next  case." 

The  unfortunate  complainant  leaves  the 
box,  and  disappears,  utterly  bewildered. 
The  Wavering  Policeman  is  about  to  call 
the  next  case,  when  the  next  case,  as  it 
seems,  calls  itself,  for  a  short  man  ad- 
vances between  the  dock  and  the  Solici- 
tor's bench  with  a  bagful  of  papers,  and 
addresses  his  Worship. 

The  Magistrate  places  himself  on  his 
elbows,  and  bends  towards  him  with  both 
hands  up  to  his  ears. 

"  Now  then,  sir,''  he  says,  as  briskly  as 
ever  (always  on  a  sort  of  "one  down, 
t'other  come  on  "  principle),  "  Who  are 
you  ?  What  do  you  want?  Go  on,  Sir." 

The  Gentleman  with  the  Bag  com- 
mences. It  appears  that  he  wants  a  great 
deal.  It  also  appears  that  he  has  been 
before  that  Court  several  times  before, 
and  has  an  application  to  make.  The 
word  "  application  "  settles  Jiis  business 
at  once. 

"I  really  can't  take  up  the  public 
time,"  said  Mr.  Sharply,  "  with  applica- 
cations.  Stand  down,  Sir." 

But  the  Man  with  a  Bag  hasn't  come 
there  to  stand  down.  He  insists  upon  the 
Magistrate  hearing  him. 

"  A  case,  Sir,"  the  Man  with  the  Bag 
goes  on  persistently,  while  Mr.  Sharply 
stands  aghast  at  his  audacity,  and  looks 
round  the  court  at  the  people  and  police 
with  the  kind  of  air  with  which  Henry 
must  have  said  of  Archbishop  Thomas-a 
Becket,  "  Have  I  no  one  who  will  rid  me 
of  this  utter  bore  ?  "  I  think  the  Waver- 


ing Policeman  has  some  passing  idea  of 
removing  the  Man  with  a  Bag,  but  he 
can't  make  up  his  mind  to  any  decisive 
step. 
The  man  proceeds — "  A  case,  Sir,  has 

arisen  out  of  a  matter  of  trespass " 

Mr.  Sharply  frowns,  and  resumes  his  atti- 
tude of  attention,  as  much  as  to  intimate 
that  he'll  just  give  him  one  more  chance, 
and  see  what  he's  driving  at — "  of  tres- 
pass, which  is  of  great  immediate  interest 
to  the  person  concerned,  and  to  the  public 
in  general  " — movemeat  of  impatience  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Sharply — "  and  I  should 
say  that  in  this  case." — Mr.  Sharply  refers 
to  his  watch — "  I  am  the  complainant  and 
the  solicitor."  Mr.  Sharply  all  attention 
again.  Man  with  Bag  continues,  evi- 
dently aware  that  the  thread  of  his  dis- 
course may  be  snipped  at  any  moment — 
"The  ground  landlord  of  Number  Two, 
Fuller's  Gardens,  received  the  sum  of  ten 
shillings  and  sixpence  previous  to  his 
bankruptcy,  and" — here  he  warms  with 
his  subjects,  and  addresses  the  Magistrate 
with  that  air  of  forcible  conviction  which 
should  characterise  a  man  who  has 
thoroughly  mastered  the  dates  and  facts 
of  his  case  "  on  the  second  of  June,  in  the 
year  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty-seven " 

"  O,  can't  listen  to  this,"  exclaims  Mr. 
Sharply,  shaking  his  head,  as  energeti- 
cally as  if  he  had  just  come  up  again  after 
a  dive.  "  Call  the  next  case." 

"  But,  Sir,''  says  the  Man  with  the  Bag, 
appealingly.  Mr.  Sharply  ia  down  on  him, 
furiously.  "  Don't  bawl  at  me,  Sir.  Good 
gracious !  it  is  to  be  a  question  whether 
you  are  to  be  heard,  or  I?  No,  Sir," 
seeing  the  man  beginning  again,  "  I  won't 
have  it.  Go  away,  Sir.  Here!"  (to 
Wavering  Policeman.)  "Remove  that 
person.  Now,  call  the  next  case.1' 

The  "  person "  doesn't  wait  to  be  re- 
moved, but  removes  himself,  bag  and  all, 
and  retires,  explaining  his  case  to  the 
Wavering  Policeman,  who  evidently  doea 
his  best  to  comfort  him,  without  commit- 
ting himself  to  any  view  which  may  com- 
promise him  in  his  official  character. 

A  vagrant,  all  dirt,  rags,  and  tatters, 
has  stepped  into  the  dock. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  says  my  Aunt. 

They  are  the  first  words  she  has  uttered 
since  the  advent  of  Mr.  Sharply,  whose 
abrupt  manner  has  utterly  disarranged  all 
ler  ideas.  She  is  gradually  recovering 
lerself.  But  I  perceive  that  she  is  more 


104 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


or  less  hysterical,  and  I  begin  to  prepare 
myself  for  a  scene. 

A  Policeman  is  in  the  witness-box,  and 
takes  his  oath  on  a  Testament  with  the 
greatest  ease. 

"  Now,  then,"  says  Mr.  Sharply. 

The  Policeman  deposes  that  he  was  on 
duty,  &c.,  &c.,  and  saw,  &c.,  &c.,  and 
warned,  &c.,  &c.  And  it  all  rolls  off  his 
tongue  as  pleasantly  as  possible,  and  the 
Vagrant  is  asked  if  he  has  anything  to  say 
to  Mr.  Sharply  on  the  subject ;  and  it  ap- 
pearing that  the  Vagrant  has  nothing  to 
say  to  Mm,  after  giving  him  one  second  to 
think  it  over,  he  (Mr.  Sharply)  has  some- 
thing to  say  to  the  Vagrant,  which  is,  that 
he  is  committed  for  a  month  with  hard 
labour;  and  this  being  all  done,  settled, 
and  dismissed  at  high-steam  pressure,  the 
Vagrant  is  taken  away  by  a  Policeman, 
and  justice  being  satisfied,  Mr.  Sharply 
darts  a  look  at  his  watch,  and  calls  for 
"  the  next  case." 

We  have  all  along  been  expecting  that 
ours  is  the  next  case,  and  my  Aunt  is  in 
a  frightfully  nervous  state,  and  very  pale. 
The  Rum  Lady  too,  is  becoming  excited, 
and  has  her  eye  still  fixed  on  "  that  Pur- 
kiss." 


CHAPTER  v. 

BTOUT  V.  THIN. — AN  INTERFERENCE. — THE 
CLERK.  SQUASHED. — A  LAUGH  IN  THE 
WRONG  PLACE.-CALL  NEXT  CASE.— THOMAS 
MUDDOCK. — EXCITEMENT.— HENRY.— COM- 
ING TO  THE  POINT. — EXAMINATION. — PRE- 
VARICATION. — ULTIMATE  TRIUMPH  OF 
RIGHT. — DEFEAT  OF  WRONG. — END  OF  MY 
AUNT'S  GREAT  POLICE  CASE. 

However,  the  next  case  (though  my 
Aunt  is  thoroughly  prepared  to  jump  up 
at  a  minute's  notice,  and,  indeed,  can 
hardly  be  said  to  be  sitting  down)  is  that 
of  a  stout  man,  without  collars,  against  a 
thin  man  in  high  collars. 

"  Now,  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Sharply,  so  sud- 
denly that  the  stout  man  looks  as  if  he 
were  going  to  have  a  fit,  and  would  want 
his  neck-tie  loosened,  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

The  stout  man  (much  to  the  thin  man's 
delight)  seems  to  have  some  difficulty  in 
stating  his  case.  Whereupon  the  Clerk, 
underneath  the  desk,  and  therefore  out 
of  the  Magistrate's  eye,  attempts  to  help 
him. 

"  You  charge,"  tay«  the  Clerk,    con- 


siderately, "  Mr.  Suiggs  with  refusing  to 
allow " 

For  one  instant  the  Magistrate  is  puz- 
zled over  the  quarter  whence  the  voice 
proceeds,  but  it  suddenly  occurring  to  him 
that  it  is  the  Clerk's,  he  reaches  over  the 
desk  to  look  at  him  (if  he  had  a  stick  it 
would  be  exactly  like  Punch  with  "  Joey  " 
the  Clown,  when  the  latter  appears  at  an 
unexpected  part  of  the  Show),  and  says, 
with  cutting  irony,  "  I  don't  know  what 
may  be  your  custom  here,  but  1  always 
conduct  the  cases  in  my  own  Court  my- 
self:' 

"  But,  Sir,"  says  the  Clerk,  « I " 

"  I  don't  care,  Sir.  I  must  beg  you 
won't  interfere.  Now  then,  Sir."  This 
last  to  the  complainant. 

But  whatever  matter  the  stout  man 
might  have  had,  originally,  against  Sniggs 
— the  thin  man,  the  altercation  has  quite 
put  it  out  of  his  head.  He  looks  help- 
lessly at  the  Clerk,  then  at  the  Solicitors 
(who  despise  him  for  not  having  employed 
one  of  them),  then  at  the  Policeman,  and 
finally  at  the  thin.man,  Sniggs,  who  laughs 
contemptuously. 

"  Put  that  man  out  of  Court  1 "  says 
Mr.  Sharply,  nodding  his  head  angrily  at 
the  thin  man  in  a  way  which  quite  takes 
the  laugh  out  of  him,  "  I  won't  have  it," 
meaning  the  thin  man's  laughing.  "  If 
you  can't  behave  yourself,  Sir,  you'd  bet- 
ter go  out." 

The  Wavering  Policeman  eyes  the  thin 
man  imploringly,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Do 
mind  what  he  says.  Do  behave  yourself. 
Don't  compel  me  to  take  you  up. " 

"  Now,  Sir,"  says  the  Magistrate,  for 
the  third  time,  to  the  stout  complainant, 
"Are  you  going  to  keep  us  here  all  day  ? 
What  do  you  charge  him  with?" 

I  believe  it  to  be  quite  a  chance  that 
the  stout  man,  being  utterly  confused  and 
muddled,  didn't  answer  "Burglary"  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment.  His  lips  move, 
but  he  is  silent. 

"Stand  down,  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Sharply, 
utterly  disgusted  with  the  man's  imbecili- 
ty. "  Now,  next  case." 

The  stout  man  ia  led  from  the  box  in  a 
wandering  state,  and  is  joined  by  the  thin 
man  and  the  Wavering  Policeman,  who 
shows  them  out ;  and  on  the  other  side  of 
he  door,  I  suppose,  they  will  forgive  one 
another,  and  weep  in  each  other's  arms. 
The  next  case  is  my  Aunt's. 
Thomas    Muddock,    the    Cabman,    is 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION  AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


105 


called.  He  steps  into  the  witness-box, 
looking  very  respectable,  and  totally  un- 
like the  drunken  man  who  couldn't  drive 
my  Aunt  on  the  memorable  night  of  her 
visit  to  my  cottage. 

Thomas  Muddock  takes  his  oath,  and 
tells  his  story.  He  drove  the  lady  from 
Jummin  Street  to  the  Hole,  Squedgely, 
ten  miles  out  of  town,  where  he  waited 
for  her  five  hours,  and  he  claims  thirty- 
two  shillings. 

Which  is  all  clear  enough. 
So  far  the  Cabman  has  it  entirely  his 
own  way.  My  Aunt  has  come  out  of  the 
pew,  and  is  clutching  me  by  the  elbow. 
"  Where  shall  I  go  ?  "  she  asks,  shaking 
all  over. 

I  am  hot  and  excited.  I  beg  of  her  to 
keep  cool.  She  is  called.  The  Clerk 
says,  "  Henrietta ! ''  and  then  adds  the 
surname. 

Mr.  Sharply  only  catches  half,  and 
asks,  abruptly, 

"Where   is   he?      Where   is  Henry? 

Why  doesn't  he " 

My  Aunt  is  beckoned  by  the  Clerk. 
She  has  heard  of  people  "  being  accom- 
modated with  a  seat  on  the  bench,"  and 
she  thinks  she  is  to  go  and  sit  by  the 
Magistrate,  out  of  consideration  for  her 
sex,  and  tell  her  plain  unvarnished  tale 
confidentially.  She  is  shaking  her  head, 
and  explaining  in  dumb  show,  with  her 
parasol,  to  the  Clerk  that  she  doesn't  see 
how  to  get  there,  without  climbing  over 
the  Solicitors'  bench,  and  crossing  the  ta- 
ble, when — 

"  Now,  then,"  says  the  Magistrate,  im- 
patiently, "where  is  Henry — "  he  can't 
catch  the  other  name — "I  can't  wait. 
We  must  call  the  next  case." 

And  the  "  next  case  "  would  have  been 
called  there  and  then,  but  for  my  Aunt 
trying  to  get  into  the  dock,  from  which 
she  is  taken  by  a  policeman,  who  informs 
her  that  she  can  stand  behind  the  Solici- 
tors. 

She  has  a  sort  of  reticule  on  her  left 
arm,  she  has  given  me  her  parasol  to 
hold,  and  she  places  her  right  hand  on 
the  back  of  the  seat. 

Seeing  this  figure  before  him,  the  Mag- 
istrate arrives  at  the  conclusion  that 
Henry  is  a  surname,  and  addresses  her 
with — 

"  Now,  Miss  Henry,  what  have  you  got 
to  say  to  this  ?  " 

Up  to  this  moment  she  has  had  a  great 


deal  to  say,  but  it  appears  to  have  sud- 
denly gone  from  her,  like  King  Nebuchad- 
nezzar's dream,  and  she  can  only  admit 
that  Thomas  Muddock  did  drive  her,  did 
wait  for  her  about  five  hours,  and  that 
she  has  not  paid  him. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asks  Mr.  Sharply.  Then, 
while  my  Aunt  is  looking  piteously  at  me 
(I  studiously  avoid  catching  her  eye,  not 
wishing  to  appear  before  I  am  absolutely 
required),  he  turns  to  the  Cabman, 

'  Did  you  agree  for  a  certain  sum  for 
the  job?" 

The  Cabman  reflects. 
"Did  you,  or  did  you  not?"  asks  Mr. 
Sharply,  who  can't  wait  for  thoughts. 

"  Yes,"  says  the  Cabman,  with  such  an 
air  of  uncertainty  as  to  the  statement 
that  Mr.  Sharply  eyes  him  distrustfully, 
and  then  wants  to  know  "How  much?" 

"  Well,"  answers  Mr.  Thomas  Mud- 
dock,  recovering  himself  a  little,  "the 
lady  said  fifteen  shillings." 

"  For  the  job  ?  "  says  Mr.  Sharply,  sug- 
gestively. 

"For  the  job,"  replies  the  Cabman, 
not  clearly  seeing  what  the  result  of  his 
answer  may  be. 

"  But,"  says  my  Aunt,  now  beginning  to 
be  quite  at  home,  "  I  said  distinctly  that 
he  might  have  to  wait." 

"Not  five  hours,"  says  Mr.  Thomas 
Muddock. 

Mr.  Sharply  looks  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  Yes,"  says  my  Aunt,  "  I  said  it  might 
be  one  hour  or  five." 

:'Did  you  agree  as  to  the  time?"  asks 
Mr.  Sharply  of  the  Cabman. 

"  No,"  says  the  Cabman,  "  I  didn't— 
that  is — in  a  way — yes." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  you're  saying," 
says  Mr.  Sharply ;  whereat  my  Aunt, 
plucking  up,  and  addressing  the  Maris- 
trate,  says,  "  I  didn't  pay  him,  your  Wor- 
ship," (she  is  very  near  saying  "My 
Lord"),  "because  when  I  wanted  him  at 
night,  he  was  so  intoxicated  that  he 
couldn't  drive  me." 

Mr.  Sharply  looks  fiercely  at  the  Cab- 
man, and  wishes  to  know  what  he  has  to 
say  to  that. 

Mr.  Thomas  Muddock  has  not  much  to 
;ay  to  that,  but  he  is  understood  to  deny 
the  charge  in  an  undertone.  The  Magis- 
trate eyes  him  suspiciously,  and  is  about 
to  make  an  observation  when  my  Aunt 
lugs  me  into  it. 

'  Here's  my  nephew,  Sir,  a  barrister, 


106 


MY  LEGAL  EXAMINATION    AND  MY  AUNT'S  POLICE  CASE. 


saw  him  ;  he'll  tell  you,  Sir."  Whereat 
I  feel  that  the  eyes  of  Europe  (specially 
unwashed  Europe)  are  upon  me,  and  be- 
come very  hot  and  uncomfortable  in  con- 
sequence. 

•'  Oh  !"  says  Mr.  Sharply,  "  there  are 
witnesses.  Now,  Sir !"  to  me. 

The  Cabman  comes  out  of  the  box, 
and  I  go  in.  A  stout  Policeman  hands 
me  a  Testament,  and  I  take  my  oath  to 
what  I  am  going  to  say. 

I  notice  that,  if  not  badgered,  it  is  sur- 
prising how  very  soon  one's  nervousness 
wears  off  in  a  witness-box,  and  what  a 
strong  temptation  there  is-to  become  con- 
fidential with  the  Magistrate,  or  with  any- 
one who  "  wishes  to  ask  this  witness  a 
question.'1 

"  Now,  Sir,  tell  us  what  happened." 

I  detail  the  facts  of  the  Cabman's  being 
unable  to  find  the  road,  and  attempt  some 
pathos  about  my  fear  for  my  Aunt's  safe- 
ty. Having  finished  my  facts,  and  gol 
quite  pleasant  with  Mr.  Sharply,  I  should 
now  like  to  romance  a  little,  and  intro- 
duce a  joke  or  two,  just  by  way  of  light- 
ening the  entertainment.  I  have  a  sort 
of  latent  idea  that  Mr.  Sharply  will  ask 
me  to  step  into  his  private  room,  or  send 
me,  by  a  policeman,  an  invitation  to  din- 
ner that  night.  I  fancy  that  with  the 
second  bottle  of  port,  or  the  first  cigar,  he 
would  say,  "  And  now,  old  fellow,  what 
was  the  truth  about  that  Cabman,  eh  ? 
I  suppose  he  really  was  drunk,  eh?" 
But  this  is  an  ideal  Sharply  at  home,  and 
not  Sharply  the  real  on  the  bench. 

This  occurs  to  me  in  the  few  seconds 
that  Mr.  Sharply  takes  to  consider  the 
case,  and  he  interrupts  my  reflections 
with — 

"  What  do  you  consider  the  right  fare 
to  your  house  ?" 

I  answer  boldly,  "  Eight  shillings,"  this 
being  rather  a  fancy  price  of  my  own 
than  what  I  am  obliged  to  give  when  I 
take  a  cab  from  town  to  my  Cottage  near 
a  Wood,  known  as  "The  Hole,"  near 
Squedgely,  Middlesex. 

"Twelve  shillings  there  and  back,  you 
would  consider  quite  sufficient?"  asks 
Mr.  Sharply,  giving  the  finishing  touches 
to  the  case.  I  reply,  that  this  sum  would 
be,  in  my  opinion,  Munificent.  [What  a 
row  there  would  have  been  at  my  gate 
had  I  ever  offered  a  cabman  this  sum  as 
his  fare  "there"  from  town,  let  alone 
"  and  back."] 


Mr.  Sharply  decides  in  a  rapid,  off-hand 
manner.  "  You'll "  (to  my  Aunt)  "  pay 
him  twelve  shillings.  Cabman  pay  his 
own  costs.  Now,  then,  call  the  next 
case." 

I  think  the  next  case  must  be  that  of 
our  friend  the  Eum  Lady,  as  I  see  the 
dreaded  Purkiss  rising  to  address  the 
Magistrate  as  we  are  leaving  the  Court. 

I  look  back  once,  tenderly,  at  Mr. 
Sharply,  with  a  sort  of  lingering  idea  that 
he  will  yet  send  me  the  invitation  to  din- 
ner, or,  at  all  events,  wave  his  hand  to 
me  genially  from  the  bench.  Nothing  of 
the  sort.  I  and  my  Aunt's  case  have  gone 
clean  out  of  his  head,  and  he  is  telling 
Mr.  Purkiss  "  that  he  really  can't  listen 
to  this  ;  that  he  hasn't  got  time  for  these 
details ;"  and  becoming  once  more  so  ir- 
ritable that  even  the  dreaded  Purkiss  will 
be  quenched,  and  the  Bum  Lady  remain 
unheard. 

On  mature  reflection,  it  occurs  to  me 
that  Mr.  Sharply  is  the  right  man  in  the 
right  place,  and  his  brisk  method  of  sift- 
ing the  Wheat  from  the  intolerable 
amount  of  Chaff,  is,  on  the  whole,  bene- 
ficial to  the  public. 

The  following  day  my  Aunt  comes  down 
to  see  me.  She  brings  with  her  all  the 
day's  newspapers.  The  Case  has  not  been 
reported  in  any  one  of  them.  She  is  in 
consequence  very  much  disappointed. 
"  If,"  she  says,  "  I  had  lost  it,  you  may 
depend  upon  it  all  London  would  have 
been  reading  about  it  now." 

She  begs  me  to  take  up  the  study  of  the 
Law,  and  has  the  happiness  to  announce 
that  her  solicitor  has  written  to  her  to  say 
that  the  Legacy  will  be  duly  paid  on  a 
certain  day,  but  that  he  must  request  the 
favour  of  an  interview. 

"  If,"  she  adds,  as  she  steps  into  her  fly, 
"  this  leads  to  any  Chancery  suit,  I  will 
tell  my  solicitor  that  he  had  better  come 
to  you." 

I  thank  her,  and  determine  to  look  up 
the  subject,  generally,  in  the  interim. 
However,  so  ends  my  Aunt's  great  Police 
Case,  and  I  have  as  yet  had  no  intimation 
of  an  impending  Chancery  suit. 


THE  Boston  Post  says  :  "  The  person 
who  sent  us  a  copy  of  the  Boston  Post, 
with  '  Jackass '  written  upon  the  margin, 
:s  requested  to  inform  us  'at  what  stable 
can  be  found." 


NEAL  MALONE. 


107 


SURE  CURE  FOR  PRIDE. 

An  old  man  who  had  for  years  been  a 
strict  church  member,  and  had  done  much 
effective  work  for  the  cause  of  temperance, 
was  found  lying  by  the  roadside  the  other 
day  in  a  state  of  intoxication.  He  was 
drawn  up  before  a  committee  of  the 
church,  and  asked  to  show  cause  why  he 
should  not  be  excommunicated. 

"  I  acknowledge  that  I  was  drunk, 
brethren,  and  I've  a  mighty  good  reason 
for  it." 

"  Family  trouble  ?  "  asked  the  chairman 
of  the  committee. 

"  No,  sir ;  I've  no  trouble.  It  was  pride." 

"  Pride !  "  exclaimed  the  chairman. 

"  Yes,  pride.  As  I  went  along  to  town 
I  met  a  drunken  fellow,  and  I  began  to 
think  well  of  myself  because  I  had  never 
been  drunk.  Pretty  soon  I  began  to  feel 
proud  about  it.  A  little  further  on  I  met 
an  ordinary -lookin'  feller,  and  wouldn't 
speak  to  him.  My  neck  was  so  stiff  with 
my  pride  that  I  wouldn't  even  nod  to 
people.  I  reflected,  that  my  pride  was 
wicked,  and  I  tried  and  tried  but  could'nt 
throw  it  off.  I  tried  to  pray,  but  was  a 
good  deal  too  proud  to  pray  with  fervor. 
This  won't  do,'  I  mused.  '  I  am  getting 
to  be  a  regular  Pharisee.'  After  walking 
round  a  while  I  met  an  old  negro,  and 
asked : 

"  Uncle,  can  you  tell  me  how  to  throw 
off  my  pride?" 

"  Dat  I  ken,  dat  I  ken." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  would,  for  to  con- 
tinue in  this  proud  way  will  be  dangerous 
to  my  soul." 

"  Wall,  dar's  one  thing  that  never  fails 
to  knock  down  a  man's  pride,  boss,  and 
dat  is  whiskey.  Get  drunk,  and  when  yer 
gets  sober  yer'll  feel  mighty  'miliated." 

"I  acted  on  this  suggestion,  and  got  as 
drunk  as  a — well,  as  an  owl,  though  I 
never  saw  an  owl  drunk.  When  I  got 
sober  I  was  the  most  humiliated  man  in 
the  world,  and  I  prayed  with  an  earnest- 
ness I  never  felt  before.  I  am  now  willing 
to  leave  my  case  in  your  hands." 

"  Brethren,"  said  the  chairman,  "  what 
do  you  think  ?  " 

''Well,"  said  one  old  fellow,  "I  feel 
sorter  proud.  How  is  it  with  yourself?  " 

"  Sorter  Pharisee.  How  do  you  feel, 
Brother  Jenks?" 


"  Proud  as  a  Peacock.  Brother  Lark- 
ins,  how  do  you  feel?  " 

"  Mighty  proud.  Let  us  go  down  to  the 
still-house  and  humiliate  ourselves  I " 


NEAL  MALONE. 

[WILLIAM  CABLBTOW,  one  of  the  most  popular  writers 
of  tales  illustrative  of  Irish  life  and  manners,  wan  born 
in  the  County  of  Tyrone,  Ireland,  in  1798  and  died 
there  in  1869.  With  only  a  "  Hedge  School "  educ*. 
tion  he  achieved  a  distinction  among  the  literary  men 
of  the  19th  Century,  that  places  him,  according  to  an 
able  authority,  as  "  The  true  historian  of  the  Irish 
people."  His  principal  works  are  "  Traits  and  Stories 
of  the  Irish  Peasantry,"  "The  Misfortunes  of  Barney 
Branagan,"  "Valentine  McClutchy,"  "  The  Tithe  Proc- 
tor," "  Willy  Eeilly,"  Ac. 

Although  the  majority  of  his  Tales  were  written  with 
a  view  to  influence  the  repeal  of  the  Union,  the  Eng- 
lish government  in  recognition  of  his  literary  service*, 
bestowed  on  him,  in  1865,  a  pension  of  £200  per  annum. 
On  his  death  the  Queen  gave  his  widow  a  pension  of 
£100  per  annum.] 

THERE  never  was  a  greater-souled  or 
doughtier  tailor  than  little  Neal  Malone. 
Though  but  four  feet  in  height,  he  paced 
the  earth  with  the  courage  and  confidence 
of  a  giant ;  nay,  one  would  have  imagined 
that  he  walked  as  if  he  feared  the  world 
itself  was  about  to  give  way  under  him. 
Let  no  one  dare  to  say  in  future  that  a 
tailor  is  but  the  ninth  part  of  a  man. 
That  reproach  has  been  gloriously  taken 
away  from  the  character  of  the  cross- 
legged  corporation  by  Neal  Malone.  He 
has  wiped  it  off  like  a  stain  from  the 
collar  of  a  second-hand  coat;  he  has 
pressed  this  wrinkle  out  of  the  lying 
Front  of  antiquity  ;  he  has  drawn  together 
this  rent  in  the  respectability  of  his  pro- 
fession. No.  By  him  who  was  breeches- 
maker  to  the  gods, — that  is,  unless,  like 
Highlanders,  they  eschewed  inexpressi- 
bles,— by  him  who  cut  Jupiter's  frieze 
jocks  for  winter,  and  eke  by  the  bottom 

his  thimble,  we  swear  that  Neal  Ma- 
lone was  more  than  the  ninth  part  of  a 
man. 

Setting  aside  the  Patagonians,  we 
maintain  that  two-thirds  of  mortal  ha- 
manity  were  comprised  in  Neal ;  and 
perhaps  we  might  venture  to  assert  that 
;wo-thirds  of  Neal's  humanity  were  egual 
;o  six-thirds  of  another  man's.  It  is  right 
well  known  that  Alexander  the  Great 


108 


NEAL   MALONE. 


was  a  little  man,  and  we  doubt  whether, 
had  Alexander  the  Great  been  bred 
to  the  tailoring  business,  he  would  have 
exhibited  so  much  of  the  hero  as  Neal 
Malone.  Neal  was  descended  from  a 
fighting  family,  who  had  signalized  them- 
selves in  as  many  battles  as  ever  any  sin- 
gle hero  of  antiquity  fought.  His  father, 
his  grandfather,  and  his  great-grandfather 
were  all  fighting  men,  and  his  ancestors 
in  general,  up,  probably,  to  Con  of  the 
Hundred  Battles  himself.  No  wonder, 
therefore,  that  Neal's  blood  should  cry 
out  against  the  cowardice  of  his  calling ; 
no  wonder  that  he  should  be  an  epitome 
of  all  that  was  valorous  and  heroic  in  a 
peaceable  man,  for  we  neglected  to  in- 
form the  reader  that  Neal,  though  "bear- 
ing no  base  mind,"  never  fought  any 
man  in  his  own  person.  That,  however, 
deducted  nothing  from  his  courage.  If 
he  did  not  fight,  it  was  simply  because  he 
found  cowardice  universal.  No  man 
would  engage  him;  his  spirit  blazed  in 
vain ;  his  thirst  for  battle  was  doomed  to 
remain  unquenched,  except  by  whiskey, 
and  this  only  increased  it.  In  short,  he 
could  find  no  foe.  He  has  often  been 
known  to  challenge  the  first  cudgel-play- 
ers and  pugilists  of  the  parish,  to  provoke 
men  of  fourteen  stone  weight,  and  to  bid 
mortal  defiance  to  faction  heroes  of  all 
grades, — but  in  vain.  There  was  that  in 
him  which  told  them  that  an  encounter 
with  Neal  would  strip  them  of  their 
laurels.  Neal  saw  all  this  with  a  lofty 
indignation ;  he  deplored  the  degeneracy 
of  the  times,  and  thought  it  hard  that  the 
descendant  of  such  a  fighting  family 
should  be  doomed  to  pass  through  life 
peaceably,  whilst  so  many  excellent  rows 
and  riots  took  place  around  him.  It  was 
a  calamity  to  see  every  man's  head  broken 
but  his  own ;  a  dismal  thing  to  observe 
his  neighbors  go  about  with  their  bones 
in  bandages,  yet  his  untouched  ;  and  his 
friends  beat  black  and  blue,  whilst  his 
own  cuticle  remained  undiscolored. 

"Blur-an'-agers!  "  exclaimed  Neal  one 
day,  when  half  tipsy  in  the  fair,  "am  I 
never  to  get  a  bit  of  fightin'  ?  Is  there 
no  cowardly  spalpeen  to  stand  afore  Neal 
Malone?  Be  this  an'  be  that,  I  'm  blue- 
mowlded  for  want  of  a  batin'  1  I  'm 
disgracin'  my  relations  by  the  life  I  'm 
ladin' !  Will  none  o'  ye  fight  me  aither 
for  love,  money,  or  whiskey,  frind  or 
inimys  an'  bad  luck  to  ye  ?  I  don't  care 


a  traneen  which,  only  out  o'  pure  frind- 
ship,  let  us  have  a  morsel  o'  the  rale 
kick-up,  'tany  rate.  Frind  or  inimy,  I 
say  agin,  if  you  regard  me;  sure  that 
makes  no  differ,  only  let  us  have  the 
fight." 

This  excellent  heroism  was  all  wasted ; 
Neal  could  not  find  a  single  adversary. 
Except  he  divided  himself  like  Hotspur, 
and  went  to  buffets  one  hand  against 
the  other,  there  was  no  chance  of  a  fight ; 
no  person  to  be  found  sufficiently  mag- 
nanimous to  encounter  the  tailor.  On 
the  contrary,  every  one  of  his  friends — 
or,  in  other  words,  every  man  in  the  par- 
ish— was  ready  to  support  him.  He  was 
clapped  on  the  back  until  his  bones  were 
nearly  dislocated  in  his  body,  and  hia 
hand  shaken  until  his  arm  lost  its  cun- 
ning at  the  needle  for  half  a  week  after- 
wards. This,  to  be  sure,  was  a  bitter 
business,  a  state  of  being  past  endurance. 
Every  man  was  his  friend, — r.o  man  was 
his  enemy.  A  desperate  position  for  any 
person  to  find  himself  in,  but  doubly 
calamitous  to  a  martial  tailor. 

Many  a  dolorous  complaint  did  Neal 
make  upon  the  misfortune  of  having  none 
to  wish  him  ill ;  and  what  rendered  this 
hardship  doubly  oppressive,  was  the  un- 
lucky fact  that  no  exertions  of  his,  how- 
ever offensive,  could  procure  him  a  single 
foe.  In  vain  did  he  insult,  abuse,  and 
malign  all  his  acquaintances.  In  vain  did 
he  father  upon  them  all  the  rascality  and 
villany  he  could  think  of ;  he  lied  against 
them  with  a  force  and  originality  that 
would  have  made  many  a  modern  novelist 
blush  for  want  of  invention, — but  all  to 
no  purpose.  The  world  for  once  became 
astonishingly  Christian  ;  it  paid  back  all 
his  efforts  to  excite  its  resentment  with 
the  purest  of  charity ;  when  Neal  struck 
it  on  the  one  cheek,  it  meekly  turned  unto 
him  the  other.  It  could  scarcely  be  ex- 
pected that  Neal  would  bear  this.  To 
have  the  whole  world  in  friendship  with 
a  man  is  beyond  doubt  an  affliction.  Not 
to  have  the  face  of  a  single  enemy  to  look 
upon,  would  decidedly  be  considered 
a  deprivation  of  many  agreeable  sensations 
by  most  people,  as  well  as  by  Neal  Ma- 
lone. Let  who  might  sustain  a  loss,  or 
experience  a  calamity,  it  was  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  Neal.  They  were  only  his 
friends,  and  he  troubled  neither  his  head 
nor  his  heart  about  them. 

Heaven  help  us!     There  is  no  man 


NEAL  MALONE. 


109 


without  hi8  trials ;  and  Neal,  the  reader 
perceives,  was  not  exempt  from  his.  What 
did  it  avail  him  that  he  carried  a  cudgel 
ready  for  all  hostile  contingencies,  or  knit 
his  brows  and  shook  his  kippeen  at  the 
fiercest  of  his  fighting  friends  ?  The  mo- 
ment he  appeared,  they  softened  into 
downright  cordiality.  His  presence  was 
the  signal  of  peace  ;  for,  notwithstanding 
his  unconquerable  propensity  to  warfare, 
he  went  abroad  as  the  genius  of  unani- 
mity, though  carrying  in  his  bosom  the 
redoubtable  disposition  of  a  warrior;  just 
aa  the  sun,  though  the  source  of  light  him- 
self, is  said  to  be  dark  enough  at  bottom. 
It  could  not  be  expected  that  Neal,  with 
whatever  fortitude  he  might  bear  his 
other  afflictions,  could  bear  such  tran- 
quillity like  a  hero.  To  say  that  he  bore 
it  as  one,  would  be  basely  to  surrender  his 
character  ;  for  what  hero  ever  bore  a  state 
of  tranquillity  with  courage  ?  It  affected 
his  cutting  out !  It  produced  what  Bur- 
ton calls  "  a  windie  melancholic,"  which 
was  nothing  else  than  an  accumulation  of 
courage  that  had  no  means  of  escaping, 
if  courage  can,  without  indignity,  be  ever 
said  to  escape.  He  sat  uneasy  on  his  lap- 
board.  Instead  of  cutting  out  soberly, 
he  flourished  his  scissors  as  if  he  were 
heading  a  faction  ;  he  wasted  much  chalk 
by  scoring  his  cloth  in  wrong  places,  and 
even  caught  his  hot  goose  without  a 
holder.  These  symptoms  alarmed  his 
friends,  who  persuaded  him  to  go  to  a 
doctor.  Neal  went,  to  satisfy  them ;  but 
he  knew  that  no  prescription  could  drive 
the  courage  out  of  him, — that  he  was  too 
far  gone  in  heroism  to  be  made  a  coward 
of  by  apothecary  stuff.  Nothing  in  the 
pharmacopoeia  could  physic  him  into  a 
pacific  state.  His  disease  was  simply  the 
want  of  an  enemy,  and  an  unaccountable 
superabundance  of  friendship  on  the  part 
of  his  acquaintances.  How  could  a  doctor 
remedy  this  by  a  prescription  ?  Impos- 
sible. The  doctor,  indeed,  recommended 
blood-letting;  but  to  lose  blood  in  a  peace- 
able manner  was  not  only  cowardly,  but  a 
bad  cure  for  courage.  Neal  declined  it : 
he  would  lose  no  blood  for  any  man  until 
he  could  not  help  it;  which  was  giving 
the  character  of  a  hero  at  a  single  touch. 
His  blood  was  not  to  be  thrown  away  in 
this  manner  ;  the  only  lancet  ever  applied 
to  his  relations  was  the  cudgel,  and  Neal 
scorned  to  abandon  the  principles  of  his 
family. 


His  friends,  finding  that  he  reserved 
his  blood  for  more  heroic  purposes  than 
dastardly  phlebotomy,  knew  not  what  to 
do  with  him.  His  perpetual  exclama- 
tion was,  as  we  have  already  stated,  "  I'm 
blue-mowlded  for  want  of  a  batin' ! "  They 
did  everything  in  their  power  to  cheer 
him  with  the  hope  of  a  drubbing ;  told 
him  he  lived  in  an  excellent  country  for 
a  man  afflicted  with  his  malady;  and 
promised,  if  it  were  at  all  possible,  to 
create  him  a  private  enemy  or  two,  who, 
they  hoped  in  heaven,  might  trounce  him 
to  some  purpose. 

This  sustained  him  for  a  while  ;  but  as 
day  after  day  passed,  and  no  appearance 
of  action  presented  itself,  he  could  not 
choose  but  increase  in  courage.  His  soul, 
like  a  sword-blade  too  long  in  the  scab- 
bard, was  beginning  to  get  fuliginous  by 
inactivity.  He  looked  upon  the  point  of 
his  own  needle,  and  the  bright  edge  of  his 
scissors,  with  a  bitter  pang,  when  he 
thought  of  the  spirit  rusting  within  him : 
he  meditated  fresh  insults,  studied  new 
plans,  and  hunted  out  cunning  devices 
for  provoking  his  acquaintances  to  battle, 
until  by  degrees  he  began  to  confound 
his  own  brain,  and  to  commit  more 
grievous  oversights  in  the  business  than 
ever.  Sometimes  he  sent  home  to  one 
person  a  coat,  with  the  legs  of  a  pair  of 
trousers  attached  to  it  for  sleeves,  and  de- 
spatched to  another  the  arms  of  the  afore- 
said coat  tacked  together  as  a  pair  of 
trousers.  Sometimes  the  coat  was  made 
to  button  behind  instead  of  before ;  and 
he  frequently  placed  the  pockets  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  skirts,  as  if  he  had  been 
in  league  with  cut-purses. 

This  was  a  melancholy  situation,  and 
his  friends  pitied  him  accordingly. 

"  Don't  be  cast  down,  Neal,"  said  they  ; 
"your  friends  feel  for  you,  poor  fellow." 

"  Divil  carry  my  frinds,''  replied  Neal ; 
rt  sure  there's  no  one  o'  yez  frindly  enough 
to  be  my  inimy.  Tare-an'-ounze  I  what'll 
I  do  ?  I'm  blue-mowlded  for  want  of  a 
batin'  I " 

Seeing  that  their  consolation  was 
thrown  away  upon  him,  they  resolved  to 
leave  him  to  his  fate ;  which  they  had  no 
sooner  done  than  Neal  had  thoughts  of 
taking  to  the  Skiomachia  as  a  last  remedy. 
In  this  mood  he  looked  with  considerable 
antipathy  at  his  own  shadow  for  several 
nights ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  questioned  but 
that  some  hard  battles  would  have  taken 


110 


NEAL  MALONE. 


place  between  them,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  cunning  of  the  shadow,  which  de- 
clined to  fight  him  in  any  other  position 
than  with  its  back  to  the  wall.  This 
occasioned  him  to  pause,  for  the  wall  was 
a  fearful  antagonist,  inasmuch  as  it  knew 
not  when  it  was  beaten ;  but  there  was 
still  an  alternative  left.  He  went  to  the 
garden  one  clear  day  about  noon,  and 
hoped  to  have  a  bout  with  the  shade,  free 
from  interruption.  Both  approached, 
apparently  eager  for  the  combat,  and 
resolved  to  conquer  or  die,  when  a 
villanous  cloud,  happening  to  intercept 
the  light,  gave  the  shadow  an  opportunity 
of  disappearing ;  and  Neal  found  himself 
once  more  without  an  opponent. 

"  It's  aisy  known,"  said  Neal,  "  you 
have  n't  the  blood  in  you,  or  you'd  come 
to  the  scratch  like  a  man." 

He  now  saw  that  fate  was  against  him, 
and  that  any  further  hostility  towards  the 
shadow  was  only  a  tempting  of  Providence. 
He  lost  his  health,  spirits,  and  everything 
but  his  courage.  His  countenance  became 
pale  and  peaceful  looking;  the  bluster 
departed  from  him  ;  his  body  slirunk  up 
like  a  withered  parsnip.  Thrice  was  he 
compelled  to  take  in  his  clothes,  and 
thrice  did  he  ascertain  that  much  of  his 
time  would  be  necessarily  spent  in  pursu- 
ing his  retreating  person  through  the 
solitude  of  his  almost  deserted  gar- 
ments. 

God  knows  it  is  difficult  to  form  a 
correct  opinion  upon  a  situation  so  para- 
doxical as  Neal's  was.  To  be  reduced  to 
«kin  and  bone  by  the  downright  friend- 
ship of  the  world  was,  as  the  sagacious 
reader  will  admit,  next  to  a  miracle.  We 
appeal  to  the  conscience  of  any  man  who 
finds  himself  without  an  enemy,  whether 
he  be  not  a  greater  skeleton  than  the 
tailor;  we  will  give  him  fifty  guineas, 
provided  he  can  show  a  calf  to  his  leg. 
We  know  he  could  not ;  for  the  tailor  had 
none,  and  that  was  because  he  had  not  an 
enemy.  No  man  in  friendship  with  the 
world  ever  has  calves  to  his  legs.  To  sum 
up  all  in  a  paradox  of  our  own  invention, 
for  which  we  claim  the  full  credit  of  ori- 
ginality, we  now  assert  that  more  men 
have  risen  in  the  world  by  the  injury  of 
their  enemies,  than  have  risen  by  the 
kindness  of  their  friends.  You  may  take 
this,  reader,  in  any  sense ;  apply  it  to 
hanging  if  you  like  ;  it  is  still  immutably 
and  immovably  true. 


One  day  Neal  sat  cross-legged,  as  tailors 
usually  sit,  in  the  act  of  pressing  a  pair  of 
breeches ;  his  hands  were  placed,  backs 
up,  upon  the  handle  of  his  goose,  and  his 
chin  rested  upon  the  back  of  his  hands. 
To  judge  from  his  sorrowful  complexion, 
one  would  suppose  that  he  sat  rather  to 
be  sketched  as  a  picture  of  misery,  or  of 
heroism  in  distress,  than  for  the  industri- 
ous purpose  of  pressing  the  seams  of  a 
garment.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  New 
Burlington  Street  pathos  in  his  counte- 
nance ;  his  face,  like  the  times,  was  rather 
out  of  joint ;  "  the  sun  was  just  setting, 
and  his  golden  beams  fell,  with  a  sad- 
dened splendor,  athwart  the  tailor's — '' 
The  reader  may  fill  up  the  picture. 

In  this  position  sat  Neal  when  Mr. 
O'Connor,  the  schoolmaster,  whose  inex- 
pressibles he  was  turning  for  the  third 
time,  entered  the  workshop.  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor himself  was  as  finished  a  picture  of 
misery  as  the  tailor.  There  was  a  patient, 
subdued  kind  of  expression  in  his  face 
which  indicated  a  very  fair  portion  of 
calamity ;  his  eye  seemed  charged  with 
affliction  of  the  first  water ;  on  each  side 
of  his  nose  might  be  traced  two  dry  chan- 
nels which,  no  doubt,  were  full  enough 
while  the  tropical  rains  of  his  countenance 
lasted.  Altogether,  to  conclude  from  ap- 
pearances, it  was  a  dead  match  in  afflic- 
tion between  him  and  the  tailor ;  both 
seemed  sad,  fleshless,  and  unthriving. 

"Misther  O'Connor,1'  said  the  tailor, 
when  the  schoolmaster  entered,  "  won't 
you  be  pleased  to  sit  down  ?  " 

Mr.  O'Connor  sat ;  and,  after  wiping 
his  forehead,  laid  his  hat  upon  the  lap- 
board,  put  his  half-handkerchief  in  his 
pocket,  and  looked  upon  the  tailor.  The 
tailor,  in  return,  looked  upon  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor ;  but  neither  of  them  spoke  for  some 
minutes.  Neal,  in  fact,  appeared  to  be 
wrapped  up  in  his  own  misery,  and  Mr. 
O'Connor  in  his ;  or,  as  we  often  have 
much  gratuitous  sympathy  for  the  dis- 
tresses of  our  friends,  we  question  but  the 
tailor  was  wrapped  up  in  Mr.  O'Connor's 
misery,  and  Mr.  O'Connor  in  the  tailor's. 

Mr.  O'Connor  at  length  said,  "Neal, 
are  my  inexpressibles  finished?  "' 

"  I  am  now  pressin'  your  inexpressi- 
bles," replied  Neal ;  "  but,  be  my  sowl, 
Mr.  O'Connor,  it 's  not  your  inexpressi- 
bles I  'm  thinkin'  of.  I  'm  not  the  ninth 
part  of  what  I  was.  I  'd  hardly  make 
paddin'  for  a  collar  now." 


NEAL  MALONE. 


Ill 


"  Are  you  able  to  carry  a  staff  still, 
Neal  ?  " 

"  I  *ve  a  light  hazel  one  that 's  handy," 
said  the  tailor ;  "  but  where  's  the  use  of 
carryin'  it,  whin  I  can  get  no  one  to  fight 
wid?  Sure  I  'm  disgracin'  my  relations 
by  the  life  I  'm  ladin'.  I  '11  go  to  my  grave 
widout  ever  batin'  a  man,  or  bein'  bate 
myself;  that  's  the  vexation.  Divil  the 
row  ever  I  was  able  to  kick  up  in  my  life ; 
so  that  I  'm  fairly  blue-mowlded  for  want 
of  a  batin'.  But  if  you  have  patience—  " 

"  Patience !  "  said  Mr.  O'Connor,  with 
a  shake  of  the  head  that  was  perfectly 
disastrous  even  to  look  at, — "  patience, 
did  you  say,  Neal?  " 

"Ay,"  said  Neal,  "an'  be  my  sowl,  if 
you  deny  that  I  said  patience,  I  '11  break 
your  head ! " 

"  Ah,  Neal,"  returned  the  other,  "  I 
don't  deny  it ;  for,  though  I  'm  teaching 
philosophy,  knowledge,  and  mathematics 
every  day  in  my  life,  yet  I  'm  learning 
patience  myself  both  night  and  day.  No, 
Neal ;  I  have  forgotten  to  deny  anything. 
I  have  not  been  guilty  of  a  contradiction, 
out  of  my  own  school,  for  the  last  four- 
teen years.  I  once  expressed  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  about  twelve  years  ago,  and 
ever  since  I  have  abandoned  even  doubt- 
ing. That  doubt  was  the  last  expiring 
effort  at  maintaining  my  domestic  au- 
thority,— but  I  suffered  for  it." 

"Well,"  said  Neal,  "if  you  have  pa- 
tience, I  '11  tell  you  what  afflicts  me  from 
beginnin'  to  endin'.'1 

"I  will  have  patience,"  said  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor ;  and  he  accordingly  heard  a  dismal 
and  indignant  tale  from  the  tailor. 

"You  have  told  me  that  fifty  times 
over,"  said  Mr.  O'Connor,  after  hearing 
the  story.  "  Your  spirit  is  too  martial 
for  a  pacific  life.  If  you  follow  my  ad- 
vice, I  will  teach  you  how  to  ripple  the 
calm  current  of  your  existence  to  some 
purpose.  Marry  a  wife.  For  twenty-five 
vears  I  have  given  instruction  in  three 
branches,  namely,  philosophy,  knowledge, 
and  mathematics.  I  am  also  well  versed 
in  matrimony,  and  I  declare  that,  upon 
my  misery,  and  by  the  contents  of  all  my 
afflictions,  it  is  my  solemn  and  melancholy 
opinion  that,  if  you  marry  a  wife,  you 
will,  before  three  months  pass  over  your 
concatenated  state,  not  have  a  single 
complaint  to  make  touching  a  super- 
abundance of  peace  or  tranquillity,  or  a 
love  of  fighting." 


"  Do  you  mane  to  say  that  any  woman 
would  make  me  afeard  ?  "  said  the  tailor, 
deliberately  rising  up  and  getting  his 
cudgel.  "  I  '11  thank  you  merely  to  go 
over  the  words  agin,  till  I  thrash  you 
widin  an  inch  of  your  life.  That 's  all." 

"  Neal,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  meekly, 
''  I  won't  fight ;  I  have  been  too  often 
subdued  ever  to  presume  on  the  hope  of 
a  single  victory.  My  spirit  is  long  since 
evaporated ;  I  am  like  one  of  your  own 
shreds,  a  mere  selvage.  Do  you  not  know 
how  much  my  habiliments  have  shrank 
in,  even  within  the  last  five  years  ?  Hear 
me,  Neal ;  and  venerate  my  words  as  if 
they  proceeded  from  the  lips  of  a  pro- 
phet. If  you  wish  to  taste  the  luxury  of 
being  subdued, — if  you  are,  as  you  say, 
blue-moulded  for  want  of  a  beating,  and 
sick  at  heart  of  a  peaceful  existence, — 
why,  marry  a  wite.  Neal,  send  my 
breeches  home  with  all  haste,  for  they 
are  wanted,  you  understand.  Farewell." 

Mr.  O'Connor,  having  thus  expressed 
himself,  departed,  and  Neal  stood,  with 
the  cudgel  in  his  hand,  looking  at  the 
door  out  of  which  he  passed,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  fierceness,  contempt,  and  re- 
flection strongly  blended  on  the  ruins  of 
his  once  heroic  visage. 

Many  a  man  has  happiness  within  his 
reach  if  he  but  knew  it.  The  tailor  had 
been  hitherto  miserable,  because  he  pur- 
sued a  wrong  object.  The  schoolmaster, 
however,  suggested  a  train  of  thought 
upon  which  Neal  now  fastened  with  all 
the  ardor  of  a  chivalrous  temperament. 
Nay,  he  wondered  that  the  family  spirit 
should  have  so  completely  seized  upon 
the  fighting  side  of  his  heart  as  to  pre- 
clude all  thoughts  of  matrimony ;  for  he 
could  not  but  remember  that  his  relations 
were  as  ready  for  marriage  as  for  a  fight- 
ing. To  doubt  this  would  have  been  to 
throw  a  blot  upon  his  own  escutcheon. 
He  therefore  very  prudently  asked  him- 
self to  whom,  if  he  did  not  marry,  should 
he  transmit  his  courage  He  was  a  sin- 
gle man,  and,  dying  as  such,  he  would  be 
the  sole  depository  of  his  own  valor, 
which,  like  Junius's  secret,  must  perish 
with  him.  If  he  could  have  left  it  as  a 
legacy  to  such  of  his  friends  as  were 
most  remarkable  for  cowardice,  why,  the 
case  would  be  altered :  but  this  was  im- 
possible,— and  he  had  now  no  other 
means  of  preserving  it  to  posterity  than 
by  creating  a  posterity  to  inherit  it.  He 


112 


NEAL  MALONE 


saw,  too,  that  the  world  was  likely  to  be- 
come convulsed.  Wars,  as  everybody 
knew,  were  certain  to  break  out;  and 
would  it  not  be  an  excellent  opportunity 
for  being  father  to  a  colonel,  or,  perhaps, 
a  general,  that  might  astonish  the  world  ? 

The  change  visible  in  Neal,  after  the 
schoolmaster's  last  visit,  absolutely  thun- 
derstruck all  who  knew  him.  The  clothes, 
which  he  had  rashly  taken  in  to  fit  his 
shrivelled  limbs,  were  once  more  let  out. 
The  tailor  expanded  with  a  new  spirit ; 
his  joints  ceased  to  be  supple,  as  in  the 
days  of  his  valor ;  his  eyes  became  less 
fiery,  but  more  brilliant.  From  being  mar- 
tial, he  got  desperately  gallant,  but,  some- 
how, he  could  not  afford  to  act  the  hero 
and  lover  both  at  the  same  time.  This, 
perhaps,  would  be  too  much  to  expect 
from  a  tailor.  His  policy  was  better. 
He  resolved  to  bring  all  his  available 
energy  to  bear  upon  the  charms  of  what- 
ever fair  nymph  he  should  select  for  the 
honor  of  matrimony ;  to  waste  his  spirit 
in  fighting  would,  therefore,  be  a  deduc- 
tion from  the  single  purpose  in  view. 

The  transition  from  war  to  love  is  by 
no  means  so  remarkable  as  we  might  at 
first  imagine.  We  quote  Jack  Falstaff 
in  proof  of  this ;  or,  if  the  reader  be 
disposed  to  reject  our  authority,  then  we 
quote  Ancient  Pistol  himself, — both  of 
whom  we  consider  as  the  most  finished 
specimens  of  heroism  that  ever  carried  a 
safe  skin.  Acres  would  have  been  a  hero 
had  he  worn  gloves  to  prevent  the  cour- 
age from  oozing  out  at  his  palms,  or  not 
felt  such  an  unlucky  antipathy  to  the 
"  snug  lying  in  the  Abbey  "  ;  and  as  for 
Captain  Bobadil,  he  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  putting  his  plan  for  vanquish- 
ing an  army  into  practice.  We  fear,  in- 
deed, that  neither  his  character,  nor  Ben 
Jonson's  knowledge  of  human  nature,  is 
properly  understood ;  for  it  certainly 
could  not  be  expected  that  a  man  whose 
spirit  glowed  to  encounter  a  whole  host, 
could,  without  tarnishing  his  dignity,  if 
closely  pressed,  condescend  to  fight  an  in- 
dividual. But  as  these  remarks  on  cour- 
age may  be  felt  by  the  reader  as  an  in- 
vidious introduction  of  a  subject  disagree- 
able to  him,  we  beg  to  hush  it  for  the 
present  and  return  to  the  tailor. 

No  sooner  had  Neal  begun  to  feel  an 
inclination  to  matrimony,  than  his  friends 
knew  that  his  principles  had  veered,  by 
ihe  change  now  visible  in  his  person  and 


deportment.  They  saw  he  had  ratted  from 
courage,  and  joined  love.  Heretofore  his 
life  had  been  all  winter,  darkened  by  storm 
and  hurricane.  The  fiercer  virtues  had 
played  the  devil  with  him ;  every  word 
was  thunder,  every  look  lightning ;  but 
now  all  that  had  passed  away  :  before,  he 
was  the  fortiter  in  re  ;  at  present,  he  was 
the  suaviter  in  modo.  His  existence  was 
perfect  spring, — beautifully  vernal.  All 
the  amiable  and  softer  qualities  began  to 
bud  about  his  heart ;  a  genial  warmth  was 
diffused  over  him ;  his  soul  got  green  with- 
in him  :  every  day  was  serene,  and  if  a 
cloud  happened  to  become  visible,  there 
was  a  roguish  rainbow  astride  of  it,  on 
which  sat  a  beautiful  Iris  that  laughed 
down  at  him,  and  seemed  to  say,  "Why 
the  dickens,  Neal,  don't  you  marry  a 
wife?" 

Neal  could  not  resist  the  afflatus  which 
descended  on  him ;  an  ethereal  light 
dwelled,  he  thought,  upon  the  face  of  na- 
ture ;  the  color  of  the  cloth  which  he  cut 
out  from  day  to  day  was,  to  his  enraptured 
eye,  like  the  color  of  Cupid's  wings, — all 
purple ;  his  visions  were  worth  their  weight 
in  gold ;  his  dreams,  a  credit  to  the  bed  he 
slept  on ;  and  his  feelings,  like  blind  pup- 
pies, young  and  alive  to  the  milk  of  love 
and  kindness  which  they  drew  from  his 
heart.  Most  of  this  delight  escaped  the 
observation  of  the  world,  for  Neal,  like 
your  true  lover,  became  shy  and  mysteri- 
ous. It  is  difficult  to  say  what  he  resem- 
bled ;  no  dark-lantern  ever  had  more  light 
shut  up  within  itself  than  Neal  had  in  nis 
soul,  although  his  friends  were  not  aware 
of  it.  They  knew,  indeed,  that  he  had 
turned  his  back  upon  valor ;  but  beyond 
this  their  knowledge  did  not  extend. 

Neal  was  shrewd  enough  to  know  that 
what  he  felt  must  be  love  ;  nothing  else 
could  distend  him  with  happiness  until 
his  soul  felt  light  and  bladder-like,  but 
love.  As  an  oyster  opens,  when  expect- 
ing the  tide,  so  did  his  soul  expand  at 
the  contemplation  of  matrimony.  Labor 
ceased  to  be  a  trouble  to  him  ;  he  sang 
and  sewed  from  morning  tonight;  his  hot 
goose  no  longer  burned  him,  for  his  heart 
was  as  hot  as  his  goose :  the  vibrations  of 
his  head,  at  each  successive  stitch,  were 
no  longer  sad  and  melancholy.  There 
was  a  buoyant  shake  of  exultation  in 
them  which  showed  that  his  soul  was 
placid  and  happy  within  him. 

Endless  honor  be  to  Neal  Malone  for 


NEAL   MALONE. 


the  originality  with  which  he  managed  the 
tender  sentiment !  He  did  not,  like  your 
commonplace  lovers,  first  discover  a  pretty 
girl,  and  afterwards  become  enamored  of 
her.  No  such  thing ;  he  had  the  passion 
prepared  beforehand, — cut  out  and  made 
up,  as  it  were,  ready  for  any  gill  whom  it 
might  fit.  This  was  falling  in  love  in  the 
abstract,  and  let  no  man  condemn  it  with- 
out a  trial ;  for  many  a  long-winded  argu- 
ment could  be  urged  in  its  defence.  It  is 
always  wrong  to  commence  business  with- 
out capital,  and  Neal  had  a  good  stock  to 
begin  with.  All  we  beg  is,  that  the  reader 
will  not  confound  it  with  Platonism,  which 
never  marries ;  but  he  is  at  full  liberty  to 
call  it  Socratism,  which  takes  unto  itself 
a  wife,  and  suffers  accordingly. 

Let  no  one  suppose  that  Neal  forgot  the 
schoolmaster's  kindness,  or  failed  to  be 
duly  grateful  for  it.  Mr.  O'Connor  was 
the  first  person  whom  he  consulted  touch- 
ing his  passion.  With  a  cheerful  soul  he 
waited  on  that  melancholy  and  gentleman- 
like man,  and  in  the  very  luxury  of  his 
heart  told  him  that  he  was  in  love. 

"  In  love,  Neal !  "  said  the  schoolmaster. 
"  May  I  inquire  with  whom  ?  " 

"  Wid  nobody  in  particular  yet,"  replied 
Neal ;  "  but  of  late  I'm  got  divilish  fond 
o'  the  girls  in  general." 

"And  do  you  call  that  being  in  love, 
Neal  ?  "  said  Mr.  O'Connor. 

"  Why,  what  else  would  I  call  it  ?  "  re- 
turned the  tailor.  "Am  n't  I  fond  of 
them?" 

"  Then  it  must  be  what  is  termed  the 
Universal  Passion,  Neal,"  observed  Mr. 
O'Connor,  "  although  it  is  the  first  time  I 
have  seen  such  an  illustration  of  it  as  you 
present  in  your  own  person." 

"  I  wish  you  would  advise  me  how  to 
act,"  said  Neal ;  "  I'm  as  happy  as  a  prince 
since  I  began  to  get  fond  o'  them,  an'  to 
think  of  marriage." 

The  schoolmaster  shook  his  head  again, 
and  looked  rather  miserable.  Neal  rubbed 
his  hands  with  glee,  and  looked  perfectly 
happy.  The  schoolmaster  shook  his  head 
again,  and  looked  more  miserable  than 
before.  Neal's  happiness  also  increased 
on  the  second  rubbing. 

Now,  to  tell  the  secret  at  once,  Mr. 
O'Connor  would  not  have  appeared  so 
miserable,  were  it  not  for  Neal's  happi- 
ness ;  nor  Neal  so  happy,  were  it  not  for 
Mr.  O'Connor's  misery."  It  was  all  the 
result  of  contrast;  but  this  you  will  not 
VOL,  ii. — w.  H. 


understand  unless  you  be  deeply  read  in 
modern  novels. 

Mr.  O'Connor,  however,  was  a  man  of 
sense,  who  knew,  upon  this  principle,  that 
the  longer  he  continued  to  shake  his  head, 
the  more  miserable  he  must  become,  and 
the  more  also  would  he  increase  Neal's 
happiness  ;  but  he  had  no  intention  of  in- 
creasing Neal's  happiness  at  his  own  ex- 
pense,— for,  upon  the  same  hypothesis,  it 
would  have  been  for  Neal's  interest  had 
he  remained  shaking  his  head  there,  and 
getting  miserable  until  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. He  consequently  declined  giving 
the  third  shake,  for  he  thought  that  plain 
conversation  was,  after  all,  more  signifi- 
cant and  forcible  than  the  most  eloquent 
nod,  however  ably  translated. 

"  Neal,"  said  he,  "  could  you,  by  stretch- 
ing your  imagination,  contrive  to  rest  con- 
tented with  nursing  your  passion  in  soli- 
tude, and  love  the  sex  at  a  distance?  '' 

"  How  could  I  nurse  and  mind  my  busi- 
ness?" replied  the  tailor.  "I'll  never 
nurse  so  long  as  I'll  have  the  wife ;  and 
as  for  'magination,  it  depends  upon  the 
grain  of  it  whether  I  can  stretch  it  or  not. 
I  don't  know  that  I  ever  made  a  coat  of  it 
in  my  life.'" 

"  You  don't  understand  me,  Neal,''  said 
the  schoolmaster.  "  In  recommending 
marriage,  I  was  only  driving  one  evil  out 
of  you  by  introducing  another.  Do  you 
think  that,  if  you  abandoned  all  thoughts 
of  a  wife,  you  would  get  heroic  again ; 
that  is,  would  you  take  once  more  to  the 
love  of  fighting  ?" 

"  There  i.s  no  doubt  but  I  would,"  said 
the  tailor  :  "if  I  miss  the  wife,  I'll  kick 
up  such  a  dust  as  never  was  seen  in  the 

Karish,  an'  you're  the  first  man  that  I'll 
ck.  But  now  that  I'm  in  love,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  sure  I  ought  to  look  out  for  the 
wife." 

"  Ah  I  Neal,"  said  the  schoolmaster, 
"you  are  tempting  destiny  ;  your  temerity 
be,  with  all  its  melancholy  consequences, 
upon  your  own  head." 

"Come,"  said  the  tailor,  "it  wasn't  to 
hear  you  groaning  to  the  tune  of  '  Dhrim- 
mindhoo,'  or  '  The  old  woman  rockin'  her 
cradle,'  that  I  came ;  but  to  know  if  you 
could  help  me  in  makin'  out  the  wife. 
That's  the  discoor^e." 

"  Look  at  me,  Neal,"  said  the  school- 
master, solemnly  ;  "  I  am  at  this  moment, 
and  have  been  any  time  for  the  last  fifteen 
years,  a  living  caveto  against  matriino- 

8 


114 


NEAL  MALONE. 


ny.  I  do  not  think  that  earth  possesses 
such  a  luxury  as  a  single  solitary  life. 
Neal,  the  monks  of  old  were  happy  men ; 
they  were  all  fat  and  had  double  chins ; 
and,  Neal,  I  tell  you,  that  all  fat  men  are 
in  general  happy.  Care  cannot  come  at 
them  so  readily  as  at  a  thin  man  ;  before 
it  gets  through  the  strong  outworks  of 
flesh  and  blood  with  which  they  are  sur- 
rounded, it  becomes  treacherous  to  its 
original  purpose,  joins  the  cheerful  spirits 
it  meets  in  the  system,  and  dances  about 
the  heart  in  all  the  madness  of  mirth ; 
just  like  a  sincere  ecclesiastic,  who  comes 
to  lecture  a  good  fellow  against  drinking, 
but  who  forgets  his  lecture  over  his  cups, 
and  is  laid  under  the  table  with  such  suc- 
cess, that  he  either  never  comes  to  finish 
his  lecture,  or  comes  often  to  be  laid  un- 
der the  table.  Look  at  me,  Neal,  how 
wasted,  fleshless,  and  miserable  I  am. 
You  know  how  my  garments  have  shrunk 
in,  and  what  a  solid  man  I  was  before 
marriage.  Neal,  pause,  I  beseech  you ; 
otherwise  you  stand  a  strong  chance  of 
becoming  a  nonentity  like  myself." 

"  I  don't  care  what  I  become,"  said  the 
tailor ;  "  I  can't  think  that  you'd  be  so 
unreasonable  as  to  expect  that  any  of  the 
Malones  should  pass  out  of  the  world 
widout  either  bein'  bate  or  marrid.  Have 
reason,  Mr.  O'Connor,  an'  if  you  can  help 
me  to  the  wife,  I  promise  to  take  in  your 
coat  the  next  time  for  nothin'." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  O'Connor, 
"  what  would  you  think  of  the  butcher's 
daughter,  Biddy  Neil?  You  have  always 
had  a  thirst  for  blood,  and  here  you  may 
have  it  gratified  in  an  innocent  manner, 
should  you  ever  become  sanguinary  again. 
'Tis  true,  Neal,  she  is  twice  your  size,  and 
possesses  three  times  your  strength ;  but 
for  that  very  reason,  Neal,  marry  her  if 
you  can.  Large  animals  are  placid  ;  and 
Heaven  preserve  those  bachelors  whom  I 
wish  well,  from  a  small  wife;  'tis  such 
who  always  wield  the  sceptre  of  domestic 
life,  and  rule  their  husbands  with  a  rod 
of  iron." 

"Say  no  more,  Mr.  O'Connor,"  replied 
the  tailor;  "she's  the  very  girl  I'm  in 
love  wid,  an'  never  fear  but  I'll  overcome 
her  heart  if  it  can  be  done  by  man.  Now, 
step  over  the  way  to  my  house,  an'  we'll 
have  a  sup  on  the  head  of  it.  Who's  that 
calling  ?" 

"  Ah  !  Neal,  I  know  the  tones, — there's 
a  shrillness  in  them  not  to  be  mistaken. 


Farewell !  I  must  depart ;  you  have  heard 
the  proverb,  '  those  who  are  bound  must 
obey.'  Young  Jack,  I  presume,  is  squall- 
ing, and  I  must  either  nurse  him,  rock 
the  cradle,  or  sing  comic  tunes  for  him, 
though  Heaven  knows  with  what  a  disas- 
trous heart  I  often  sing,  'Begone,  dull 
care,'  the  '  Hakes  of  Newcastle,'  or,  '  Peas 
upon  a  Trencher.'  Neal,  I  say  again, 
pause  before  you  take  this  leap  in  the 
dark.  Pause,  Neal,  I  entreat  you.  Fare- 
well !" 

Neal,  however,  was  gifted  with  th« 
heart  of  an  Irishman,  and  scorned  caution 
as  the  characteristic  of  a  coward;  he  had, 
as  it  appeared,  abandoned  all  design  of 
fighting,  but  the  courage  still  adhered  to 
him  even  in  making  love.  He  conse- 
quently conducted  the  siege  of  Biddy 
Neil's  heart  with  a  degree  of  skill  and 
valor  which  would  not  have  come  amiss 
to  Marshal  Gerald  at  the  siege  of  Ant- 
werp. Locke  or  Dugald  Stewart,  indeed, 
had  they  been  cognizant  of  the  tailor's 
triumph,  might  have  illustrated  the 
principle  on  which  he  succeeded ;  as  to 
ourselves,  we  can  only  conjecture  it.  Our 
own  opinion  is,  that  they  were  both  ani- 
mated with  a  congenial  spirit.  Biddy  was 
the  very  pink  of  pugnacity,  and  could 
throw  in  a  body-blow,  or  plant  a  facer, 
with  singular  energy  and  science.  Her 
prowess  hitherto  had,  we  confess,  been 
displayed  only  within  the  limited  range 
of  domestic  life  ;  but  should  she  ever  find 
it  necessary  to  exercise  it  upon  a  larger 
scale,  there  was  no  doubt  whatsoever,  in 
the  opinion  of  her  mother,  brothers,  and 
sisters,  every  one  of  whom  she  had  suc- 
cessively subdued,  that  she  must  un- 
doubtedly distinguish  herself.  There 
was  certainly  one  difficulty  which  the 
tailor  had  not  to  encounter  in  the  pro- 
gress of  his  courtship ;  the  field  was  his 
own  ;  he  had  not  a  rival  to  dispute  his 
claim.  Neither  was  there  any  opposition 
given  by  her  friends  ;  they  were,  on  the 
contrary,  all  anxious  for  the  match  ;  and 
when  the  arrangements  were  concluded, 
Neal  felt  his  hand  squeezed  by  them  in 
succession,  with  an  expression  more  re- 
sembling condolence  than  joy.  Neal, 
however,  had  been  bred  to  tailoring,  and 
not  to  metaphysics ;  he  could  cut  out  a 
coat  very  well,  but  we  do  not  say  that  he 
could  trace  a  principle, — as  what  tailor, 
except  Jeremy  Taylor,  could  ? 

There  was  nothing  particular  in   the 


NEAL  MALONE. 


115 


wedding.  Mr.  O'Connor  was  asked  by 
Neal  to  be  present  at  it,  but  he  shook  his 
head,  and  told  him  that  he  had  not 
courage  to  attend  it,  or  inclination  to  wit- 
ness any  man's  sorrows  but  his  own.  He 
met  the  wedding  party  by  accident,  and 
was  heard  to  exclaim  with  a  sigh  as  they 
flaunted  past  him  in  gay  exuberance  of 
spirits,  "  Ah,  poor  Neal !  he  is  going  like 
one  of  her  father's  cattle  to  the  shambles ! 
Woe  is  me  for  having  suggested  matri- 
mony to  the  tailor !  He  will  not  long  be 
under  the  necessity  of  saying  that  he  is 
'blue-moulded  for  want  of  a  beating.' 
The  butcheress  will  fell  him  like  a  Kerry 
ox,  and  I  may  have  his  blood  to  answer 
for,  and  his  discomfiture  to  feel  for,  in  ad- 
dition to  my  own  miseries." 

On  the  evening  of  the  wedding  day, 
abotit  the  hour  of  ten  o'clock,  Neal,  whose 
spirits  were  uncommonly  exalted,  for  his 
heart  luxuriated  within  him,  danced  with 
his  bridesmaid ;  after  the  dance  he  sat 
beside  her,  and  got  eloquent  in  praise  of 
her  beauty ;  and  it  is  said,  too,  that  he 
whispered  to  her,  and  chucked  her  chin 
with  considerable  gallantry.  The  tete-cL- 
t£te  continued  for  some  time  without  ex- 
citing particular  attention  with  one  ex- 
ception ;  but  that  exception  was  worth  a 
whole  chapter  of  general  rules.  Mrs. 
Malone  rose  up,  then  sat  down  again,  and 
took  off  a  glass  of  the  native;  she  got  up 
a  second  time, — all  the  wife  rushed  upon 
her  heart, — she  approached  them,  and,  in 
a  fit  of  the  most  exquisite  sensibility, 
knocked  the  bridesmaid  down,  and  gave 
the  tailor  a  kick  of  affecting  pathos  upon 
the  inexpressibles.  The  whole  scene  was 
a  touching  one  on  both  sides.  The  tailor 
was  sent  on  all  fours  to  the  floor!  but 
Mrs.  Malone  took  him  quietly  up,  put  him 
under  her  arm,  as  one  would  a  lap-dog, 
and  with  stately  step  marched  away  to 
the  connubial  apartment,  in  which  every- 
thing remained  very  quiet  for  the  rest  of 
the  night. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  O'Connor  pre- 
sented himself  to  congratulate  the  tailor 
on  his  happiness.  Neal,  as  his  friend 
shook  hands  with  him,  gave  the  school- 
master's fingers  a  slight  squeeze,  such  as 
a  man  gives  who  would  gently  entreat 
your  sympathy.  The  schoolmaster  looked 
at  him,  and  thought  he  shook  his  head. 
Of  this,  however,  he  could  not  be  certain ; 
for,  as  he  shook  his  own  during  the  mo- 
ment of  observation,  he  concluded  that  it 


might  be  a  mere  mistake  of  the  eye,  o;( 
perhaps,  the  result  of  a  mind  predisposed 
to  be  credulous  on  the  subject  of  shaking 
heads. 

We  wish  it  were  in  our  power  to  draw 
a  veil,  or  curtain,  or  blind  of  some  de- 
scription over  the  remnant  of  the  tailor's 
narrative  that  is  to  follow ;  but  as  it  is  the 
duty  of  every  faithful  historian  to  give 
the  secret  causes  of  appearances  which 
the  world  in  general  do  not  understand, 
so  we  think  it  but  honest  to  go  on,  impar- 
tially and  faithfully,  without  shrinking 
from  the  responsibility  that  is  frequently 
annexed  to  truth. 

For  the  first  three  days  after  matrimony, 
Neal  felt  like  a  man  who  had  been  trans- 
lated to  a  new  and  more  lively  state  of 
existence.  He  had  expected  and  flattered 
himself,  that  the  moment  that  this  event 
should  take  place,  he  would  once  more 
resume  his  heroism,  and  experience  the 
pleasure  of  a  drubbing.  This  determina- 
tion he  kept  a  profound  secret ;  nor  was 
it  known  until  a  future  period  when  he 
disclosed  it  to  Mr.  O'Connor. 

On  the  first  week  after  his  marriage 
there  chanced  to  be  a  fair  in  the  next 
market-town.  Neal,  after  breakfast, 
brought  forward  a  bunch  of  shillelahs,  in 
order  to  select  the  best ;  the  wife  inquired 
the  purpose  of  the  selection,  and  Neal  de- 
clared that  he  was  resolved  to  have  a 
fight  that  day,  if  it  were  to  be  had,  he 
said,  for  "  love  or  money."  "  The  truth 
is,"  he  exclaimed,  strutting  with  fortitude 
about  the  house — "  the  truth  is,  that  I've 
done  the  whole  of  yez, — I'm  as  blue- 
mowlded  as  ever  for  want  of  a  batin'." 

"  Don't  go,"  said  the  wife. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Neal,  with  vehemence ; 
"  I'll  go,  if  the  whole  parish  was  to  go  to 
prevint  me." 

In  about  another  half-hour  Neal  sat 
down  quietly  to  his  business,  instead  of 
going  to  the  fair  I 

Much  ingenious  speculation  might  be 
indulged  in  upon  this  abrupt  termination 
to  the  tailor's  most  formidable  resolution  ; 
but,  for  our  own  part,  we  will  prefer 
going  on  with  the  narrative,  leaving  the 
reader  at  liberty  to  solve  the  mystery  as 
he  pleases.  In  the  meantime,  we  say 
this  much, — let  those  who  cannot  make 
it  out,  carry  it  to  their  tailor;  it  is  a 
tailor's  mystery,  and  no  one  has  so  good 
a  right  to  understand  it, — except,  per- 
haps, a  tailor's  wife. 


116 


NEAT,  MALONE. 


At  the  period  of  his  matrimony,  Neal 
had  become  as  plump  and  as  stout  as  he 
ever  was  known  to  be  in  his  plumpest  and 
stoutest  days.  He  and  the  schoolmaster 
had  been  very  intimate  about  this  time ; 
but  we  know  not  how  it  happened  that 
soon  afterwards  he  felt  a  modest,  bride- 
like  reluctance  in  meeting  with  that 
afflicted  gentleman.  As  the  eve  of  his 
union  approached,  he  was  in  the  habit, 
during  the  schoolmaster's  visits  to  his 
workshop,  of  alluding,  in  rather  a  sarcastic 
tone,  considering  the  unthriving  appear- 
ance of  his  friend,  to  the  increasing 
lustiness  of  his  person.  Nay,  he  has 
often  leaped  up  from  his  lap-board,  and, 
in  the  strong  spirit  of  exultation,  thrust 
out  his  leg  in  attestation  of  his  assertion, 
slapping  it,  moreover,  with  a  loud  laugh 
of  triumph,  that  souuded  like  a  knell  to 
the  happiness  of  his  emaciated  acquaint- 
ance. The  schoolmaster's  philosophy, 
however,  unlike  his  flesh,  never  departed 
from  him ;  his  usual  observation  was, 
"  Neal,  we  are  both  receding  from  the 
oame  point ;  you  increase  in  flesh,  whilst 
I,  Heaven  help  me,  am  fast  diminishing." 

The  tailor  received  these  remarks  with 
very  boisterous  mirth,  whilst  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor simply  shook  his  head,  and  looked 
sadly  upon  his  limbs,  now  shrouded  in  a 
superfluity  of  garments,  somewhat  re- 
sembling a  slender  thread  of  water  in  a 
shallow  summer  stream,  nearly  wasted 
away,  and  surrounded  by  an  unpropor- 
tionate  extent  of  channel. 

The  fourth  month  after  the  marriage 
arrived,  and  Neal,  one  day,  near  its  close, 
began  to  dress  himself  in  his  best  apparel. 
Even  then,  when  buttoning  his  waistcoat, 
he  shook  his  head  after  the  manner  of 
Mr.  O'Connor,  and  made  observations 
upon  the  great  extent  to  which  it  over- 
folded  him. 

"  Well,"  thought  he  with  a  sigh,  "  this 
waistcoat  certainly  did  fit  me  to  a  T  ;  but 
it's  wonderful  to  think  how  —  cloth 
stretches ! " 

"Neal,"  said  the  wife,  on  perceiving 
him  dressed,  "  where  are  you  bound  for  ?  " 

"  Faith,  for  life,"  replied  Neal,  with  a 
mitigated  swagger  ;  "  and  I  'd  as  soon,  if 
It  had  been  the  will  of  Provid —  " 

He  paused. 

" Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the 
wife  a  second  time. 

"  Why,"  he  answered,  "  only  to  dance 
at  Jemmy  Connolly's ;  I  '11  be  back  early." 


"  Don't  go,"  said  the  wife. 

"  I  '11  go,"  said  Neal,  "  if  the  whob 
counthry  was  to  prevint  me.  Thunder  an' 
lightnin',  woman,  who  am  I?"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  loud,  but  rather  infirm 
voice ;  "  am  n't  I  Neal  Malone,  that 
never  met  a  man  who  'd  fight  him  !  Neal 
Malone,  that  was  never  beat  by  man  I 
Why,  tare-an-ounze,  woman !  Whoo  1 
I  '11  get  enraged  some  time,  an'  play  the 
divil !  Who 's  afeard,  I  say  ?  " 

"Don't  go,"  added  the  wife,  a  third 
time,  giving  Neal  a  significant  look  in 
the  face. 

In  about  another  half-hour  Neal  sat 
down  quietly  to  his  business,  instead  of 
going  to  the  dance ! 

Neal  now  turned  himself,  like  many  a 
sage  in  similar  circumstances,  to  phil- 
osophy ;  that  is  to  say,  he  began  to  shake 
his  head  upon  principle,  after  the  manner 
of  the  schoolmaster.  He  would,  indeed, 
have  preferred  the  bottle  upon  principle; 
but  there  was  no  getting  at  the  bottle, 
except  through  the  wife ;  and  so  it  hap- 
pened that  by  the  time  it  reached  him, 
there  was  little  consolation  left  in  it. 
Neal  bore  all  in  silence;  for  silence,  his 
friend  had  often  told  him,  was  a  proof  of 
wisdom. 

Soon  after  this,  Neal  one  evening  met 
Mr.  O'Connor  by  chance  upon  a  plank 
which  crossed  a  river.  This  plank  was 
only  a  foot  in  breadth,  so  that  no  two 
individuals  could  pass  each  other  upon 
it.  We  cannot  find  words  in  which  to 
express  the  dismay  of  both,  on  finding 
that  they  absolutely  glided  past  one 
another  without  collision. 

Both  paused,  and  surveyed  each  other 
solemnly;  but  the  astonishment  was  all 
on  the  side  of  Mr.  O'Connor. 

"Neal,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "by  all 
the  household  gods,  I  conjure  you  to 
speak,  that  I  may  be  assured  you  live  I '' 

The  ghost  of  a  blush  crossed  the 
churchyard  visage  of  the  tailor. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  why  the  divil 
did  you  tempt  me  to  marry  a  wife  ?  " 

"  Neal,"  said  his  friend,  "  answer  me 
in  the  most  solemn  manner  possible; 
throw  into  your  countenance  all  the 
gravity  you  can  assume  ;  speak  as  if  you 
were  under  the  hands  of  the  hangman, 
with  the  rope  about  your  neck,  for  the 
question  is  indeed  a  trying  one  which  I 
am  about  to  put.  Are  you  still  'blue- 
moulded  '  for  want  of  a  beating?  " 


NEAL  MALONE. 


117 


The  tailor  collected  himself  to  make  a 
reply ;  he  put  one  leg  out, — the  very  leg 
which  he  used  to  show  in  triumph  to  his 
friend;  but,  alas,  how  dwindled!  He 
opened  his  waistcoat  and  lapped  it  round 
him,  until  he  looked  like  a  weasel  on  its 
hind  legs.  He  then  raised  himself  up  on 
his  tiptoes,  and,  in  an  awful  whisper,  re- 
plied, "  No ! ! !  the  divil  a  bit  I  'm  blue- 
uiowlded  for  want  of  a  batin' !  " 

The  schoolmaster  shook  his  head  in 
his  own  miserable  manner ;  but,  alas ! 
he  soon  perceived  that  the  tailor  was 
as  great  an  adept  at  shaking  the  head  as 
himself.  Nay,  he  saw  that  there  was  a 
calamitous  refinement,  a  delicacy  of  shake 
in  the  tailor's  vibrations  which  gave  to  his 
own  nod  a  very  commonplace  character. 

The  next  day  the  tailor  took  in  his 
clothes ;  and  from  time  to  time  continued 
to  adjust  them  to  the  dimensions  of  his 
shrinking  person.  The  schoolmaster  and 
he,  whenever  they  could  steal  a  moment, 
met  and  sympathized  together.  Mr. 
O'Connor,  however,  bore  up  somewhat 
better  than  Neal.  The  latter  was  subdued 
in  heart  and  in  spirit ;  thoroughly,  com- 
pletely, and  intensely  vanquished.  His 
features  became  sharpened  by  misery,  for 
a  termagant  wife  is  the  whetstone  on  which 
all  the  calamities  of  a  henpecked  husband 
are  painted  by  the  Devil.  He  no  longer 
strutted  as  he  was  wont  to  do ;  he  no 
longer  carried  a  cudgel  as  if  he  wished  to 
wage  a  universal  battle  with  mankind. 
He  was  now  a  married  man.  Sneakingly, 
and  with  a  cowardly  crawl,  did  he  creep 
along  as  if  every  step  brought  him  nearer 
to  the  gallows.  The  schoolmaster's  march 
of  misery  was  far  slower  than  Neal's :  the 
latter  distanced  him.  Before  three  years 
passed  he  had  shrunk  up  so  much,  that  he 
could  not  walk  abroad  of  a  windy  day 
without  carrying  weights  in  his  pockets  to 
keep  him  firm  on  the  earth  which  he  once 
trod  with  the  step  of  a  giant.  He  again 
sought  the  schoolmaster,  with  whom,  in- 
deed, he  associated  as  much  as  possible. 
Here  he  felt  certain  of  receiving  sympa- 
thy ;  nor  was  he  disappointed.  That 
worthy  but  miserable  man  and  Neal  often 
retired  beyond  the  hearing  of  their  respec- 
tive wives,  and  supported  each  other  by 
every  argument  in  their  power.  Often 
have  they  been  heard  in  the  dusk  of  even- 
ing singing  behind  a  remote  hedge  that 
melancholy  ditty,  "  Letus  bothbe  unhappy 
together ; "  which  rose  upon  the  twilight 


breeze  with  a  cautious  quaver  of  sorrow 
truly  heart-rending  and  lugubrious. 

"  Neal,"  said  Mr.  O'Connor,  on  one  of 
those  occasions,  "  here  is  a  book  which  I 
recommend  to  your  perusal ;  it  is]  called 
'  The  Afflicted  Man's  Companion  ' ;  try 
if  you  cannot  glean  some  consolation  out 
of  it " 

"Faith,"  said  Neal,  "I'm  forever 
oblaged  to  you,  but  I  don't  want  it.  I've 
had  '  The  Afflicted  Man's  Companion '  too 
long,  and  not  an  atom  of  consolation  I  can 
get  out  of  it.  I  have  one  o'  them,  I  tell 
you  ;  but,  be  me  sowl,  I'll  not  undertake 
a  pair  o'  them.  The  very  name's  enough 
for  me."  They  then  separated. 

The  tailor's  vis  vitce  must  have  been 
powerful,  or  he  would  have  died.  In  two 
years  more  his  friends  could  not  distin- 
guish him  from  his  own  shadow ;  a  cir- 
cumstance which  was  of  great  inconven- 
ience to  him.  Several  grasped  at  the  hand 
of  the  shadow  instead  of  his ;  and  one 
man  was  near  paying  it  five  and  sixpence 
for  making  a  pair  of  small-clothes.  Neal, 
it  is  true,  undeceived  him  with  some 
trouble,  but  candidly  admitted  that  he  was 
not  able  to  carry  home  the  money.  It  was 
difficult,  indeed,  for  the  poor  tailor  to  bear 
what  he  felt;  it  is  true  he  bore  it  as  long 
as  he  could ;  but  at  length  he  became 
suicidal,  and  often  had  thoughts  of  "  mak- 
ing his  own  quietus  with  his  bare  bodkin." 
After  many  deliberations  and  afflictions, 
he  ultimately  made  the  attempt;  but, 
alas !  he  found  that  the  blood  of  the  Ma- 
lones  refused  to  flow  upon  so  ignominious 
an  occasion.  So  he  solved  the  phenome- 
non ;  although  the  truth  was,  that  his 
blood  was  not  "  i'  the  vein  "  for  it ;  none 
was  to  be  had.  What  then  was  to  be  done? 
He  resolved  to  get  rid  of  life  by  some  pro- 
cess ;  and  the  next  that  occurred  to  him 
was  hanging.  In  a  solemn  spirit  he  pre- 
pared a  selvage,  and  suspended  himself 
from  the  rafter  of  his  workshop ;  but  here 
another  disappointment  awaited  him ;  he 
would  not  hang.  Such  was  his  want  of 
gravity  that  his  own  weight  proved  insuf- 
ficient to  occasion  his  death  by  mere  sus- 
pension. His  third  attempt  was  at  drown- 
ing ;  but  he  was  too  light  to  sink ;  all  the 
elements,  all  his  own  energies,  joined 
themselves,  he  thought,  in  a  wickea  con- 
spiracy to  save  his  life.  Having  thus  tried 
every  avenue  to  destruction,  and  failed  in 
all,  he  felt  like  a  man  doomed  to  live  for- 
ever. Henceforward  he  shrunk  and  shriy- 


118 


THE  GRIFFIN. 


elled  by  slow  degrees,  until  in  the  course 
of  time  he  became  so  attenuated  that  the 
grossness  of  human  vision  could  no  longer 
reach  him. 

This,  however,  could  not  last  always. 
Though  still  alive,  he  was  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  imperceptible.  He  could 
only  now  be  heard  By  and  by  Neal's 
voice  lessened,  got  fainter  and  more  in- 
distinct, until  at  length  nothing  but  a 
doubtful  murmur  could  be  heard,  which 
ultimately  could  scarcely  be  distinguished 
from  a  ringing  in  the  ears. 

Such  was  the  awful  and  mysterious  fate 
of  the  tailor,  who,  as  a  hero,  could  not 
of  course  die;  he  merely  dissolved  like 
an  icicle,  wasted  into  immateriality,  and 
finally  melted  away  beyond  the  perception 
of  mortal  sense.  Mr.  O'Connor  is  still 
living,  and  once  more  in  the  fulness  of 
perfect  health  and  strength.  His  wife, 
however,  we  may  as  well  hint,  has  been 
dead  more  than  two  years. 


THE  GRIFFIN. 

THE  subjoined  story  relative  to  a  griffin, 
or  newly  arrived  cadet  in  India,  may  have 
charms  for  those  who  like  a  practical  joke. 
It  is  an  extract  from  an  article  on  Indian 
literature  in  Alexander's  East  Indian 
Magazine,  in  which  the  writer  quotes  the 
following  humorous  account,  by  Dr. 
Grant,  of  Calcutta,  of  the  trick  played 
upon  a  griffin  and  novice  on  his  first 
arrival  in  the  east : 

"  Breakfast  over,  Captain  Eadcliffe  took 
the  griffin  with  him  to  his  agent's,  Mr. 
Anchises  Macpherson,  from  whom  he  had 
a  most  kind  reception,  and  an  invitation 
to  take  up  his  quarters  in  his  house.  This 
was  the  more  acceptable,  as  Major  Scarp 
and  Captain  Radcliffe,  were  also  his 
guests ;  and  during  our  grin's  stay, 
nothing  could  exceed  the  truly  gentle- 
manlike hospitality  be  experienced,  and 
that,  too,  from  one  on  whom  he  had  no 
claim  whatever ;  nevertheless,  at  first,  the 
griff  had  some  difficulty  how  to  act. 

" '  I  am  really  extremely  obliged  to  you, 

sir,  but  as  Lord  M recommended  my 

taking  up  my  quarters  in  the  Lugger 
Hotel,  Bow-Bazar  street,  I ' 

" '  Lord  M recommended  your  tak- 
ing up  your  quarters  in  the  Lugger  Hotel, 


Bow-Bazar  street?'  exclaimed  Mr.  Mac- 
pherson, in  a  tone  of  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,  you  can  ask  Captain  Rad- 
clifie.' 

"  '  Oh  1 '  said  Mr.  Macpherson,  with  a 
smile,  'Radcliffe  is  just  the  same  wild 
fellow  he  was  at  Barasut ;  he  has  been 
griffing  you.' 

'  '  Griffing  me !  what's  that?' 

"  '  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear  sir,  you 
will  soon,  by  the  friendly  assistance  of 
Radcliffe,  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  griffing  and  various  other  mysteries.' 

"  Major  Scarp,  after  an  absence  of  a 
week,  spent  with  a  friend  at  Barrackpore, 
returned  to  Mr.  Macpherson's.  Address- 
ing himself  to  our  hero,  he  asked  him  if 
he  had  beeu  to  the  governor-general  yet ; 
to  which  he  of  course  answered  in  the 
negative. 

"  'Why,  how  is  this,Radcliffe  ;  has  he 
not  been  to  see  his  lordship  ? ' 

"  'And  have  you  not  been  to  see  his 
lordship?'  asked  Captain  Radcliffe  too, 
with  a  look  of  surprise, — '  I  deemed  that 
so  notoriously  understood  a  thing,  that  I 
supposed  you  must  of  course  have  done  so.' 
'  Lud,'  said  the  cadet,  alarmed,  '  I 
was  not  at  all  aware  such  a  thing  was  ex- 
pected or  necessary.' 

" '  Necessary  I '  continued  the  captain, 
'  why,  my  goodness  I  I  fear  you  have  got 
into  a  bad  scrape  by  having  neglected  the 
observance  of  etiquette  so  long.  What ! 
have  you  so  soon  forgot  the  melancholy 
fate  of  cadets  Beadle,  Wheedle,  and 
Tweedle,  whose  mortal  remains  are 
whistling  in  the  wind  on  Melancholy 
Point?  Remember,  my  boy,  that  you  are 
not  now  in  Derbyshire.  No,  no,  men  in 
power  have  a  summary  way  of  managing 
matters  in  this  country.' 

"'Yes,'  said  Major  Scarp,  'and  you 
must  immediately  write  to  the  aid-de- 
camp in  waiting,  to  solicit  an  audience  of 
the  lord,  and,  as  usual  on  such  occasions, 
to  ask  for  an  appointment.' 

"'True,' said  Captain  Radcliffe,  'and 
as  the  appointment  of  resident  at  Luck- 
now  is  just  become  vacant,  and  as  it  is 
the  only  tolerable  thing  going,  you  should 
at  once  apply  for  it ;  and  should  his  lord- 
ship demur  to  your  request,  you  can  claim 
it  as  your  undoubted  right,  under  regula- 
tion 542,  of  the  Sudder  Dewanny  and 
Nizamut  Adawlut.' 

This  was  all  Hebrew  to  poor  Abel  Peters, 
who  took  notes  of  what  he  was  advised  to 


THE  GRIFFIN. 


119 


do,  and  wrote  immediately  for  an  audi- 
ence, his  friends  instructing  him  how  to 
comport  himself  towards  the  great  man. 

"  In  half  an  hour  a  note  came  back 
from  the  aid-de-camp,  to  say,  that  his 
lordship  would  be  glad  to  see  Mr.  Peters 
the  next  day,  at  one  o'clock,  P.M.  '  But,' 
observed  Captain  Kadcliffe,  '  there  is  one 
thing  we  had  like  to  have  forgotten  ;  you 
cannot  present  yourself  before  the 
governor-general  in  plain  clothes:  have 
you  your  uniform  ready?''  'No,'  re- 
spond'ed  the  griff,  'but  I  have  in  my 
chest  fifteen  yards  of  scarlet  cloth,  pro- 
vided for  the  purpose,  by  Stalkin,  Walsh, 
and  Milburn,  of  Leadenhall  street.' 
'  Whew  !  but  there  is  no  time  to  make  a 
coat  of  the  cloth :  what  can  be  done  ? 
Oh !  now  I  have  it! '  exclaimed  the  major, 
'  true,  I  am  stouter  than  our  young  friend, 
but  my  regimentals  will  answer  very  well 
for  all  that.'  '  A  most  happy  thought, 
indeed/  observed  the  captain. 

"  Next  day,  accordingly,  be-booted  and 
be-spurred  rather  grotesquely,  in  a  suit  of 
the  major's  regimentals,  a  world  too  large 
for  him,  the  cadet  prepared,  with  palpita- 
ting heart,  to  visit  the  governor-general. 
When  the  major  saw  him,  he  screwed  up 
his  face  as  if  he  had  an  attack  of  the 
toothache,  and  could  only  prevent  an  ex- 
plosion of  laughter  by  cramming  his 
pocket  handkerchief  into  his  mouth. 
Captain  Radcliffe  gravely  said,  that  every- 
thing was  comme  ilfaut,  and  that  the  old 
peer  could  not  fail  to  be  much  struck  with 
his  appearance,  which  unquestionably 
turned  out  to  be  the  fact. 

" '  But  it's  drawing  nearly  the  time,' 
observed  Major  Scarp,  taking  out  his 
watch,  '  we  must  get  your  sewarrie  ready.' 

"'My  what?' 

" '  You  griff,  do  you  think  you  could 
proceed  to  government  house,  without  a 
proper  retinue.'  On  this,  two  Kitmutghars, 
the  cook,  the  musaulchy,  and  the  bhisty, 
were  called,  and  told  to  march  before 
our  hero's  palanquin.  This  ridiculous 
cortege  proceeded  towards  the  great  nor- 
thern entrance  of  the  government  house, 
and  when  the  palanquin  reached  the 
portico,  our  hero,  perspiring  at  every  pore, 
issued  out  of  his  wooden  vehicle,  and 
marched  up  the  steps,  with  as  much  dig- 
nity as  he  could  assume,  to  the  no  small 
admiration  of  some  of  the  inmates,  who 
saw  him  from  the  windows.  At  length  he 
found  himself  in  the  ante-chamber,  where 


the  presence  of  such  an  apparition  caused 
a  general  sensation :  some  tittered,  and 
others  wondered  '  who  it  could  possibly 
be.'  At  a  distance  he  looked  like  a  field 
officer ;  on  a  near  approach  his  was,  in- 
deed, '  a  most  questionable  shape.'  The 
aid-de-camp,  who  was  very  short-sighted, 
after  ushering  in  several  persons,  at  length 
came  to  our  hero.  '  Will  you  be  good 
enough,  sir,  to  say  what  your  name  is  ? ' — 
"Peters,  sir,  Abel  Peters.'  'Major  Abel 
Peters,  have  the  goodness  to  walk  this 
way.'  And  to  his  consternation,  our 
griff,  in  ten  seconds  more,  found  himself, 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  presence  of  a 
lord,  and  that  lord  the  governor-general 
of  India. 

"  As  previously  instructed,  he  made  a 
most  profound  bow  at  the  door ;  he  re- 
peated his  elaborate  cong'e  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  at  length  coming  close 
up  to  his  lordship,  he  dropped  on  one 
knee,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
said,  in  an  agitated  and  flattering  tone,  '  I 
kiss  your  lordship's  hands! '  Oh,  for  the 
pencil  of  Cruikshank  to  portray  his  lord- 
ship's look  of  amazement,  and  the  smile 
that  played  over  his  singularly  benign 
and  expressive  countenance!  He  was, 
however,  too  polite  a  man  to  keep  even 
a  griff  in  any  degree  of  painful  suspense, 
by  a  display  of  emotion  at  such  a  Judicious 
exhibition,  more  especially  as  he  observed 
the  poor  major  looked  exceedingly  em- 
barrassed and  heated.  Outre  and  absurd 
too,  as  the  exhibition  he  had  just  made 
was,  his  lordship,  at  a  single  glance  at  the 
man,  (or  rather  hobbledehoy)  felt  quite 
satisfied  that  no  disrespect,  but  quite  the 
reverse,  was  intended.  He  pointed  to  a 
chair,  and  asked  the  major  how  long  he 
had  been  in  India. 

"  '  About  ten  days,  my  lord.' — '  You  be- 
long to  the  infantry,  I  believe,  major  ?' — 
'  I  do,  my  lord.' 

"  '  And  a  fine  service  it  is,  sir,  that  ever 
teems  with  openings  and  contingencies 
for  conduct  and  gallantry  to  win  their  way 
to  renown.'  Here  his  lordship  paused, 
and  our  griff  began  to  feel  an  indefinable 
uneasiness  creep  over  him,  on  observing 
his  lordship's  eye  scanning  his  habiliments 
with  a  glance  of  keen  but  smiling  inquiry. 
At  length,  the  pause  became  so  oppressive 
to  him,  that  he  gasped  out  the  words,  '  I 
hope,  my  lord,  that  there  is  nothing  in  my 
dress  or  appearance  that  you*  lordship 
deems  improper  1 ' 


120 


DOING  HER  PART. 


"  'Oh,  by  no  manner  of  means, major ; 
I  was  only  thinking  how  fortunate  you 
have  been  in  your  rapid  promotion !' 

"  '  Rapid  promotion,  my  lord !  I  observe 
too,  that  your  lordship  has  been  pleased 
to  call  me  major:  why,  my  lord,  1  am 
only  a  cadet.' 

"  '  Indeed  !  by  your  dress,  my  dear  sir, 
I  considered  you  to  be  a  field  officer.' 

"  '  Why,  my  lord,  I  was  informed  that 
I  ought  not  to  present  myself  before  your 
lordship  in  colored  clothes,  and  having 
no  uniform  of  my  own  made,  Major  Scarp 
kindly  offered  me  his.'  Here  his  lordship 
turned  aside,  apparently  to  indulge  in  a 
little  fit  of  sudden  coughing,  but  really 
to  prevent  his  laughing  outright.  He 
then  again  addressed  our  griff. 

" '  Is  there  anything,  Mr.  Peters,  in 
which  it  is  in  my  power  to  serve  you?' 

'"I  have  a  small  favor  to  submit  to 

your  lordship, ' 

'What  is  it,  Mr.  Peters?' 

"'That  your  lordship  would  kindly 
appoint  me  Resident  at  Lucknow,  that 
situation  being,  I  am  informed,  vacant.' 

"  His  lordship  here  gave  a  look  and  ges- 
ture of  most  unfeigned  astonishment,  and 
his  eye,  resting  for  a  moment  on  the  youth, 
to  see  if  he  was  in  possession  of  his  right 
senses  or  not,  at  length  was  lighted  up 
with  a  slightly  sarcastic  smile,  as  he  said 
— '  Why  really,  Mr.  Peters,  I  am  not 
quite  prepared  for  this  request,  I  must 
confess.  But  will  not  any  thing  else  suit 
you?  What  say  you  to  getting  into 

council  at  once  ?  Mr. is  now  going  out, 

and  if  I  am  not  mistaken  you  are  as  well 
fitted  for  the  one  situation  as  the  other  ! ' 

"  '  I  am  much  obliged  to  your  lordship, 
but  I  prefer  what  I  have  said ;  besides, 
my  lord,  I  believe  I  can  claim  it  under 
the  usual  regulation.' 

' '  The  usual ! '  '  Yes,  my  lord,  said  our 
griff,  who  deemed  that  he  had  now 
clenched  the  peer,  '  yes,  my  lord,  No.  542 
of  the  Sudder  Dewanny  and  Nizamut 
Adawlut.' 

" '  His  lordship  was  now  fairly  over- 
powered, and  laughed  outright,  until  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  Our  griff 
was  much  disconcerted  at  first,  but  he 
rallied,  and,  according  to  the  instructions 
he  had  previously  received,  proceeded. 
'  If  your  lordship  should  not  deem  it 
proper  to  grant  this  my  request,  perhaps 
you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  appoint  me 
to  the  Rhinoceros  Corps  ?  ' 


' '  The  Rhinoceros  Corps  I  Mr.  Peters. 
Perhaps  you  mean  the  Dromedary  Corps !' 

"  •'  No,  my  lord,  I  was  told  the  Rhino- 
ceros Corps.' 

" '  Well,  well,  Mr.  Peters,  we  shall  not 
dispute  about  the  point,  but  pray  oblige 
me  by  saying  where  you  picked  up  your 
extraordinarily  correct  information  about 
the  Nizamut  Adawlut  regulation  and  the 
Rhinoceros  Corps  ?' 

"  '  From  Captain  Radcliffe  and  Major 
Scarp,  my  lord.' 

' "  Ah,  my  young  friend,'  said  his  lord- 
ship, rising,  Major  Scarp  and  Captain 
Radcliffe  are  great  wags ;  but  as  they  ap- 
pear to  be  old  acquaintances  of  yours,  and 
they  dine  with  me  to-morrow  evening, 
perhaps,  Mr.  Peters,  you  will  give  us  the 

pleasure  of  your  company  at  half-past 

o'clock?' 

"  Our  griff  respectfully  accepted  the  in- 
vitation, out  in  taking  leave  of  his  lord- 
ship, contented  himself  with  a  low  bow, 
having  some  misgivings  respecting  the 
excess  of  ceremonial  with  which  he  had 
graced  his  entree  into  the  great  man's 
presence." 


DOING  HER  PART. 

AUNT  PHCEBE  lived  and  flourished 
about  the  time  our  grandmothers  were 
young.  She  had  her  idiosyncrasies  like 
the  rest  of  us.  She  filled  the  situation  of 
housekeeper,  cook,  and  maid  of  all  work 
for  the  magnificent  sum  of  seventy-five 
cents  per  week. 

Ethan  Sheppard  had  the  name  of  being 
a  near  man — it  was  said  of  him,  while 
keeping  store  in  Tattletown,  that  he  bit  a 
nail  in  two,  because  the  whole  of  it  would 
more  than  make  the  scales  balance.  He 
seemed  to  be  afraid  that,  "  Satan  would 
find  some  mischief  still  "  for  Aunt  Phoebe 
if  her  hands  were  idle,  so  it  was  his  prac- 
tice to  take  himself  and  men  off  to  work 
without  leaving  enough  wood  to  cook  the 
dinner;  of  course  Aunty  was  expected 
to  have  all  things  ready  at  noon. 

So  she  added  wood  chopping  to  the  rest 
of  her  accomplishments — till  it  entered 
her  head  that  she  was  being  imposed 
upon,  then,  like  a  true  American,  she  re- 
sisted. And  Ethan  Sheppard  was  in- 
formed, to  his  great  astonishment,  that  it 
was  not  a  woman's  place  to  provide  the 
fuel,  and  that  hereafter  he  would  have  to 


OLD  HOBSON. 


121 


eee  to  it.  Nevertheless,  he  went  the  next 
day  to  his  work  as  usual,  and  left  nothing 
for  the  fire.  At  half-past  nine  Phoebe 
swung  on  the  dinner-pot,  and  put  into  it 
the  pork,  cabbage,  and  potatoes.  At 
twelve  o'clock  she  took  them  out  and 
placed  them  on  the  table,  and  called  the 
men  in  to  dinner. 

Imagine  the  faces  of  those  hungry  la- 
borers as  they  took  in  the  state  of  affairs. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  roared  out 
old  Ethan. 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,"  retorted 
Phoebe.  "  I  put  the  dinner  on  in  plenty 
of  time ;  the  pork's  been  in  the  pot  since 
half-past  nine,  it  was  on  in  plenty  of  time, 
plenty  of  time." 

It  is  needless  to  state  that  next  day  there 
was  wood  enough  prepared  to  do  the 
cooking,  and  Aunt  Phoebe  was  not  the 
one  who  cut  it. 


OLD  HOBSON.i 


HERE  lies  old  Hobson ;  Death  has  broke  his 

girt> 

And  here,  alas  !  hath  laid  him  in  the  dirt ; 
Or  else  the  ways  being  foul,  twenty  to  one, 
He 's  here  stuck  in  a  slough,  and  overthrown. 
'Twas  such  a  shifter,  that,  if  the   truth  were 

known, 
Death  was  half  glad  when  he  had  got  him 

down ; 

For  he  had  any  time  these  ten  years  full, 
Dodged  with  him  betwixt  Cambridge   and 

The  Bull, 
And  surely  Death  could  never    have  pre- 

vail'd, 
Had  not  his   weekly    course   of  carriage 

fail'd ; 

But  lately  finding  him  so  long  at  home, 
And  thinking  now  his  journey's  end  was 

come, 

And  that  he  had  ta'en  up  his  latest  inn, 
In  the  kind  office  of  a  chamberlain 
Show'd  him  his  room  where  he  must  lodge 

that  night, 
Pull'd  off  his  boots,  and  took  away  the  light : 


i  On  the  University  carrier,  who  sickened  In  the  time 
->f  hi«  holiday  :  being  forbid  to  go  to  London,  by  rea- 
eon  of  the  plague.  It  WM  he  who  established  "  Hob- 
ion's  Choice." 


If  any  ask  for  him,  it  shall  be  said, 
"  Hobson  has  supp'd  and  's  newly  gone  to 
bed." 


n. 


Here  lieth  one,  who  did  most  truly  prove 
That  he  could  never  die   while   he  could 

move  : 

So  hung  his  destiny,  never  to  rot 
While  he  mightstill  jog  on  and  keep  his  trot ; 
Made  of  sphere-metal,  never  to  decay 
Until  his  revolution  was  at  stay. 
Time    numbers    motion,    yet    (without    a 

crime 
'Gainst  old  truth)  motion  number'd  out  his 

time: 
And,  like  an  engine  moved  with  wheel  and 

weight, 
His    principles    being  ceased,   he    ended 

straight. 
Rest,  that  gives  all  men  life,  gave  him  his 

death, 
And  too  much  breathing  put  him  out  of 

breath : 

Nor  were  it  contradiction  to  affirm, 
Too  long  vacation  hastened  on  his  term. 
Merely  to  drive  away  the  time  he  sicken'd, 
Fainted,  and  died,  nor  would  with  ale  be 

quicken'd  ; 
"  Nay,1'   quoth   he,  on    his   swooning  bed 

out-stretch'd, 

"  If  I  mayn't  carry,  sure  I'll  ne'er  be  fetch'd, 
But  vow,  though  the  cross  doctors  all  stood 

hearers, 

For  one  carrier  put  down  to  make  six  bear- 
ers." 
Ease  was  his  chief  disease  ;  and,  to  judge 

right, 
He   died   for  heaviness  that  his  cart  went 

light. 

His  leisure  told  him  that  his  time  was  come, 
And   lack  of  load   made   his   life  burden- 
some, 
That  even  to  his  last  breath  (there  be  that 

aay't), 
As  he    were    press'd   to   death,   he   cried, 

"  More  weight ;  " 

But,  had  his  doings  lasted  as  they  were, 
He  had  been  an  immortal  carrier. 
Obedient  to  the  moon  he  spent  his  date 
In  course  reciprocal,  and  had  his  fate 
Link'd  to  the  mutual  flowing  of  the  seas, 
Yet  (strange  to  think)  his  wain  was  his  in» 

crease : 

His  letters  are  deliver'd  all  and  gone, 
Only  remains  this  superscription. 

JOHN  MILTOIT,  1608-1674. 


122 


HOW  PROFESSOR  PEPSINE  LECTURED  THE  GHOST. 


HOW  PROFESSOR  PEPSINE   LEC- 
TURED THE   GHOST. 

THE  little  French  clock  in  the  mottled 
walnut-wood  case  that  stood  on  the 
mantel-piece  of  the  professor's  laboratory, 
No.  90,  Great  Decoram  Street,  had  just 
chimed  out  midnight  in  a  silvery  and 
musical  way,  when  the  professor  opened 
his  front  door,  with  a  latch-key,  and 
burglariously  entered  his  own  house  on 
his  early  return  from  an  evening  party. 

Now,  the  professor  was  a  popular  lec- 
turer on  Food,  Electricity,  and  other 
kindred  subjects;  and  being,  moreover, 
a  jovial,  fat,  clever  little  man,  was  rather 
an  acquisition  at  De  Beauvoir  Town,  or 
any  other  parties ;  for  he  sang  a  little, 
played  a  little,  danced  a  little,  flirted  a 
little,  and  made  a  fool  of  himself  a  little,  yet 
was  by  no  means  a  bore  ;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, a  decidedly  useful  old  bachelor,  and 
would  waltz  with  ugly  girls,  chat  with 
talkative  old  fogies,  and  take  gorgeous 
dowagers  down  to  the  supper-room.  And 
as  the  professor  did  not  care  about  being 
joked  at,  but,  on  the  contrary,  rather 
liked  it ;  and,  when  smiled  at,  laughed, 
and  twinkled,  and  beamed  through  his 
silvery  spectacles,  like  a  merry  old  glow- 
worm, every  one  forgot  hia  learning  and 
celebrity,  and  liked  the  professor  heartily. 

On  the  night  in  question  the  professor 
was  in  high  spirits,  and  with  some  reason. 
Firstly,  he  had  made  two  jokes  that  had 
set  the  supper-table  in  a  roar,  and  had 
made  the  jellies  shake  as  if  they  felt  the 
cold.  Secondly,  he  had  waltzed  twice 
with  pretty  Fanny  Ledger,  and  had  re- 
ceived a  smile  that  gave  hopes  of  more 
intimate  relationship  being  established 
some  day  between  the  houses  of  Ledger 
and  Pepsine.  Thirdly,  a  great  thought 
had  struck  him,  as  he  walked  briskly  and 
chirpilyhome,  for  his  celebrated  "Treatise 
on  the  Merrythought  of  the  Dodo,"  which 
was  to  be  read  at  the  Royal  Society  on 
the  ensuing  Wednesday. 

I  do  not  wish  to  say  that  the  professor 
had  taken  champagne  with  more  people 
that  night  than  he  ought,  at  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Jones's  great  annual  party — though  even 
that  would  only  tend  to  show  the  large- 
ness of  the  excellent  man's  benevolence — 
but  still  I  must  concede  that  somehow  or 
other  he  was  abnormally  exhilarated,  for 


he  danced  a  cavalier  seul  as  he  put  his 
Gibus  on  the  hall-table,  and  pirouetted  as 
he  took  off  his  grey  opera  wrapper  and 
shawl  handkerchief,  and  lighted  his 
moderator  lamp  at  the  flame  of  the  expir- 
ing night-light. 

The  professor  was  as  brave  as  most  men, 
but  he  was  that  night,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, a  little  nervous.  It  was,  at  all 
events,  owing  to  this  slight  nervous  de- 
rangement, I  suppose,  that  the  professor 
as  he  lighted  his  lamp,  went  down  the  two 
steps  that  led  to  the  kitchen  stairs,  and 
peered  inquisitively  and  suspiciously  into 
the  empty  darkness.  But,  good  soul !  there 
was  nothing  to  see  there  save  one  black- 
beetle  on  the  wall,  and  nothing  to  hear 
but  the  watchful  drudging  tick  of  the  im- 
prisoned kitchen  clock  below.  The  bells 
were  all  up  at  the  shutters,  and  the  door- 
mats were  duly  removed.  Trusty  Mrs. 
Dawson  had  forgotten  nothing. 

"  Pooh  !  what  a  fool  I  am  !  "  thought 
the  professor,  as  he  turned  the  key  of  his 
laboratory  door,  opening  out  of  the  hall  to 
the  right,  and  stepped  in.  Everything 
was  snug  and  trim,  the  stove  was  ruddy, 
the  gas-lamps  were  just  alight,  and  that 
was  all ;  their  little  blue  jets  hoarding  up 
the  flame  with  due  regard  to  the  quarterly 
gas  bill.  How  clear  and  bright  the  spirit- 
lamp  looked ;  how  crystalline  were  the 
glass  bowls ;  how  ready  to  go  through  fire 
and  water,  the  rough  crucibles ;  how  red 
the  vermilioned  horse-shoes  of  big  mag- 
nets !  In  the  exhilaration  of  those  after- 
supper  moments  the  professor  felt  quite  a 
boy  again,  and  the  old  boyish  delight  at 
the  sight  of  the  chemical  apparatus  came 
over  him  with  its  old  power.  "  Of  what 
use  was  it  to  go  to  bed  ?  He  was  sure  not 
to  get  to  sleep  after  that  strong  coffee. 
Why  might  he  not  sit  up  for  an  hour  and 
work?" 

"  Work."  But  here  a  difficulty  present- 
ed itself.  What  kind  of  work  should  Pro- 
fessor Pepsine  select  ?  There  wasn't  time 
to  go  into  "  the  Dodo's  Merrythought," 
and  it  wanted  daylight  to  examine  "  the 
capillary  circulation  of  the  tadpole's  tail." 
But  the  professor  had  a  will  of  his  own  ; 
he  decided  in  a  moment;  the  struggle  was 
over ;  he  would — yes,  that  was  it — pursue 
his  researches  on  "  the  gastric  juice  and 
the  human  digestion  apparatus." 

"What's  that  noise?  Oh,  only  the 
policeman  trying  the  front  door  to  see  if 
it  is  properly  bolted."  The  professor  sits 


HOW  PROFESSOR  PEPSINE  LECTURED  THE  GHOST. 


123 


down  at  his  table,  which  is  on  the  door 
side  of  the  stove,  turns  up  the  gas  (up  it 
flies  like  a  willing  spirit),  and  sits  down 
to  work  for  an  hour  at  his  lecture  on  the 
gastric  juice.  But  first  he  goes  (I  should 
mention)  to  a  side-table  at  the  farthest 
end  of  the  room  beyond  the  stove,  to  see 
that  that  mischievous  girl  of  Mrs.  Daw- 
son's  hasn't  been  touching  the  thermo- 
electrical  instruments.  No,  the  wires  are 
right.  But  I  think  she  has  been  moving 
the  skeleton  of  the  Polish  soldier  that  the 
doctor  keeps  for  his  anatomical  lectures, 
else  why  is  one  of  the  skeleton's  legs 
thrust  out  before  the  other,  as  if  our  bony 
friend  with  the  vacant  eyes,  and  the 
Russian  bullet  in  his  skull,  had  been  pro- 
menading the  laboratory  in  his  master's 
absence  ?  With  a  "  tut-tut "  of  impatience 
the  doctor  puts  the  skeleton  into  its  right 
place  in  the  corner,  and  makes  as  he  does 
it  quite  a  castanet  clatter  with  the  loose 
leg-bones ;  at  last  it  is  right,  hanging  by 
the  usual  ring,  safe  on  its  gibbet-like 
frame,  dry,  brown,  and  ghastly  as  ever. 

Now  the  professor  settles  down  at  last 
seriously  to  work.  He  carefully  culls  the 
best  pen  in  his  quiver  and  nibs  it.  He 
takes  off  the  gutta-percha  band  that  en- 
circles his  roll  of  lecture  manuscripts,  and 
he  unscrews  the  top  of  his  inkstand.  Ye 
gods  of  medicine,  be  propitious,  for  the 
professor  has  mounted  the  tripod — I  mean 
he  has  just  seated  himself  with  a  plop  on 
his  red-morocco-leather-covered  library 
chair.  Now,  he  flattens  the  paper  oratori- 
cally  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  with 
a  slightly  pompous  hem  !  savoring  some- 
what of  the  British  Institution,  and  with 
a  slight  hiccup,  begins  to  read  his  pre- 
liminary risumi  of  the  net  results  of 
stomachic  digestion : — 

"  1.  The  food  is  churned,  ground,  tri- 
turated, macerated,  disintegrated,  and 
liquified." 

Here  the  professor  stopped,  and  seri- 
ously reflected  whether  those  three  last 
oyster  patties  that  followed  instead  of 
preceding  the  liberal  helping  of  Mrs. 
Fitz- Jones's  blanc-mange,  were  not  rather 
injudicious. 

"  2.  The  fats,  liberated  from  their  cellu- 
lar envelope,  have  become  oils."  . 

"I  shall  suffer  for  this  to-morrow," 
thought  the  gay  professor. 

"  3.  The  sugars  have  not  much  altered, 
for  they  are  crystalline  bodies  ;  but  the 
cane-sugars  have  turned  to  grape-sugars, 


and  perhaps  a  small  proportion  of  them 
have  turned  to  lactic,  or  milk  acid." 

"  I  shall  have  a  headache  to-morrow," 
said  the  professor's  stomachic  conscience, 
quite  indifferent  to  the  lecture  on  the 
gastric  juice. 

"  4.  The  vegetable  matters  have  been 
divided  and  made  pulpy." 

Here  the  professor  lighted  a  cheroot. 

"The  albuminous  matters  have  been 
macerated  (how  the  gas  flickers!) — the 
whole  has  become  a  pulp.'' 

"  Excellent !"  saidthe  good  little  man, 
rubbing  his  plump  little  hands — "ex- 
cellentiy  condensed,  though  I  say  it.  Such 
should  popular  science  be,  and  would  that 
such  it  were !  I  shall  then  perform  my 
extraordinary  and  expensive  experiments 

of  artificial  digestion.  Taking  a 

Halloa !  what's  that  noise  ?  I'm  rather 
nervous  to-night  —  taking,  I  say,  the 
stomach  of  a  newly -killed  sheep,  ca'refully 
cleaned  and  scented,  I  shall  desire  my 
attendant  to  place  into  it,  bit  by  bit,  an 
excellent  dinner:  turtle  soup,  salmon, 
salad,  a  slice  of  venison,  vegetables,  beer, 
wine,  salt,  catchup,  bread,  pastry,  and 
finally  cheese.  I  shall  then  pour  in  two 
table-spoonfuls  of  my  artificial  gastric 
juice,  and  submit  the  whole  to  a  gentle 
heat,  showing  by  an  electric  light  which 
will  penetrate  the  tissues  of  the  bag,  the 
rapid  solvency  of  the  whole  into  one 
colorless  pulp  or  chyle.  This  lecture 
will  lead  to  tremendous  discussions  in  the 
papers." 

And  here  the  professor,  pausing  to  take 
breath,  actually  rolled  about  in  his  chair, 
at  the  images  his  exhilarated  imagination 
had  raised ;  but  he  suddenly  drew  up 
quite  rigid  and  composed,  as  an  echo  of 
his  own  laugh  seemed  to  return  to  him 
from  the  bookcase  behind  the  skeleton. 

Now  the  professor,  though  a  vain  little 
man,  and  a  trifle  of  a  humbug,  had  a  cer- 
tain sense  of  humor,  and  he  was  not  so 
wise  but  that  he  could  laugh  at  himself. 
I  like  him  for  it,  and  I  think  that  that 
merry  (perhaps  rather  champagny)  laugh 
did  him  great  credit.  The  popular  lec- 
turer looked  at  the  clock.  It  was  ten 
minutes  to  one. 

"Stay  till  two,"  he  said,  "and just  read 
short  notes  that  have  drawn  up  for  m' 
Christmas  lecture  on  '  British  and  Foreign 
Wines,  their  uses  and  abuses,  with  special 
remarks,  by  request,  on  South  African 
Port  and  Betts's  Brandy.'  Oh  that  Mr*, 


124 


HOW  PROFESSOR  PEPSINE  LECTURED  THE  GHOST. 


Fitz- Jones's  champagne !  there  was  some- 
thing in  it.     What,  four  glasses  of  cham 

— "  Here  the  professor  again  hiccupped. 
"  But  the  cold  air  on  February  night  (after 
supper-parties)  does  make  one  hiccup. 
What  is  that  noise  ?  " 

"Let  us  first  consider  the  bouquet  of 
wines  and  its  causes  (that'll  do  for  them). 
The  bouquet  or  vinous  perfume  arises 
from  the  presence  and  involvement  of  a 
substance  called  senanthic  ether.  (Here 
I  must  puzzle  them  a  little ;  the  public 
like  to  be  puzzled.)  Alcohol,  you  know, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  a  hydrate  of  the 
oxide  of  ethyle.  Now,  if  we  put '' 

I  am  not  prepared  to  say  how  unin- 
telligible the  learned  professor  might  not 
have  become,  had  not  a  certain  strange 
shuffling  stir  that  he  heard,  or  fancied  he 
heard,  at  this  moment  struck  his  attention. 
It  was  a  sound  like  the  walking  of  a  very 
lame  man,  mixed  up  with  the  stir  and 
drag  of  a  moving  chain  and  a  sort  of  bony 
rattle,  not  at  all  pleasant  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

The  sound  came  from  the  direction  of 
the  bookcase  beyond  the  stove,  the  little 
door  of  which,  by-the-by,  at  this  moment 
suddenly  flew  open  with  a  jerk,  as  if 
frightened.  The  professor  could  not  see 
very  well  into  the  dark  corner,  for  the 
bright  globe  of  the  gas-lamp  shaded  it 
from  his  eyes.  When,  however,  he  turned 
his  head  slightly  on  one  side,  and  thus 
got  rid  of  what  (without  a  bull)  might  be 
perhaps  called  the  overshadowing  glare, 
he  caught  sight  of  an  extraordinary  ob- 
ject— visible,  materially  visible  to  his  optic 
nerves,  and  to  the  eyes  which  may  be 
called  their  windows. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it  at  all — 
he  saw  or  thought  he  saw,  distinctly,  two 
skeletons  sitting  and  warming  their  shins 
in  front  of  the  stove  door.  One  must  be 
his  laboratory  skeleton,  for  it  had  the 
well-known  black  bullet-mark  on  the  left 
temple ;  but  the  other  was  a  perfect 
stranger.  The  one  sat  with  legs  stretched 
foppishly  out,  and  his  long  right  arm 
hung  over  the  chair-back;  the  other 
cowered  over  the  fire  and  rubbed  his 
knees,  which  the  fire  reflection  turned 
crimson. 

But  the  doctor  was  a  brave  man,  and  not 
a  superstitious  one,  and  had  in  his  time 
done  his  best  to  expose  the  folly  of  table- 
rapping,  and  of  the  stuffed  hands  and  lazy 
tongs,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  He  did  not, 


therefore,  believe  what  he  saw,  but  attri- 
buted it  at  once  to  a  natural  cause.  All 
he  said  was,  as  he  rose  and  pointed  at  the 
skeletons,  these  simple  words  of  common 
sense : 

"Diseased  state  of  my  retina." 

Here  the  Polish  ghost  rose,  and  intro- 
duced his  friend  with  a  wave  of  the  hand 
as  "  the  Guy's  Hospital  skeleton." 

Now,  I  may  as  well  premise  here  that  I 
am  not  myself  answerable  for  the  exact 
truth  of  what  the  skeleton  said,  as  the 
doctor  could  never  make  up  his  mind 
afterwards  whether  the  skeletons  actually 
spoke,  or  whether  the  replies  apparently 
addressed  to  him  by  those  strange  appari- 
tions were  not  rather  replies  made  by  his 
inner  consciousness  to  his  own  questions. 

"  Binocular  deception,"  said  the  doctor, 
occasioned  by  temporary  vinous  affection 
of  the  optic  nerve — very  common  after 
dinner." 

At  this  moment,  the  Polish  ghost 
coughed  in  the  impatient  way  in  which 
people  do  who  wish  to  edge  a  word  in. 

The  professor  continued  in  a  contemptu- 
ous tone,  feeling  his  pulse  deliberately  as 
he  spoke,  and  making  a  note  on  his  blot- 
ting pad  of  its  condition  "  at  five  minutes 
to  one,  Thursday,  February  15,  1862.'' 

"The  blood  heated;  the  nervous  sys- 
tem by  some  subtle  cause  partly  thrown 
off  its  balance — brain  locally  excited  in 
the  organs  of  caution — it's  all  that  infernal 
champagne  of  Mrs.  Fitz-Jones's — that's  it 
— a  species  of  waking  nightmare."  Here 
the  professor  threw  himself  unconsciously 
into  a  lecturing  attitude,  and  struck  the 
table  with  a  heavy  ruler. 

The  ghost,  getting  rather  impatient  and 
a  little  nettled,  advanced  to  the  table,  and 
putting  one  hand  on  his  hips  oratorically, 
stretched  the  other  deprecatingly  towards 
the  professor,  whose  courage  increased 
every  minute,  the  more  scientifically  heat- 
ed he  got. 

"  Just  one  moment,''  said  the  ghost, 
"  if  I  may  be  permitted  by  my  friend  from 
Guy's." 

"  I  have  devoted  much  time  to  these 
cases,"  said  the  professor  (he  was  one  of 
those  men  you  constantly  meet,  who  have 
always  "  devoted  much  time "  to  what- 
ever subject  you  are  discussing),  "and  I 
know  all  the  precedents;  they  are  all 
classified:  there  was  Dr.  Ferriar,  and 
Monsieur  Nicolai,  the  celebrated  book- 
seller of  Berlin." 


HOW  PROFESSOR  PEPSINE  LECTURED  THE  GHOST. 


125 


'•  I  often  meet  him,"  said  the  ghost. 

"  About  the  year  1791,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, treading  down  all  interruptions, 
"  Nicolai  began  to  be  visited  by  crowds  of 
ghosts." 

"  I  was  one  of  them,"  said  the  Polish 
ghost.  The  skeleton  from  Guy's  nodded, 
and  bleared  through  a  quite  superfluous 
eye-glass,  to  indicate  that  he  was  another. 

"  Crowds  of  phantasm  ata,"  continued 
Pepsine,  "  who  moved  and  acted  before 
him,  who  addressed  him,  and  to  whom  he 
spoke  without  fear;  knowing  that  they 
were  mere  symptoms  of  a  certain  de- 
rangement of  health,  such  as  suicidal 
feelings,  and  indeed  all  melancholy,  arises 
from." 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  ghost, 
entreating  silence,  and  actually  winking 
slily  at  the  professor. 

"  Silence,  sir  !  You  are  a  mere  phan- 
tom, the  result  of  hectic  symptoms,  febrile 
and  inflammatory  disorders,  inflammation 
of  the  brain,  nervous  irritability,  and  only 
fools  and  sceptics  have  any  belief  in 
you !" 

"  But  one  word." 

"  Not  a  word ;  I  know  all  your  re- 
lations; there  is  Dr.  Gregory's  old  hag, 
who  used  to  strike  people  with  her  crutch." 

"  My  grandmother  on  my  father's  side," 
said  the  ghost,  consequentially.  "  Mother 
Shipton  was  my  aunt."' 

"Sorry  for  it,  for  she  was  no  great 
things.  I've  seen  too  many  ghosts,  sir,  as 
some  great  person  once  said,  ever  to  be- 
lieve in  them — a  pack  of  rubbish.  The 
man  who  believes  in  a  ghost,  I  tell  you, 
ought  to  be  sent  to  an  hospital." 

The  quiet  dittoing  ghost  suggested 
"  Guy's,"  and  smiled. 

"  I  know  the  ghost  in  the  tamboured 
waistcoat,  and  the  skeleton  that  looked 
between  the  bed-curtains  and  frightened 
the  doctor,''  said  the  professor. 

"  Dare  n't  look  behind  you,  though  I " 
said  the  Polish  ghost,  in  a  nagging  and 
malicious  way. 

At  this  sneer  the  ghost  from  Guy's 
rubbed  his  knees  harder  than  ever,  and 
laughed  till  he  rocked  again. 

"Daren't  I?"  said  the  doctor,  and 
turned  quietly  round ;  then  snapping 
back  again,  and  catching  the  gentleman 
from  Poland  sliding  forward  to  try  and 
pull  his  coat  and  frighten  him,  he  de- 
liberately snatched  up  his  ruler,  and  hit 
khe  Pole  a  rattling  blow  on  his  bare  skull ; 


at  which  the  Pole  grew  angry,  and  the 
friend  from  Guy's  laughed  more  than  ever. 

"How  about  Nicolai's  ghost?  That's 
a  settler,  I  think,"  said  the  Pole,  stepping 
back  to  a  safe  distance  from  the  table,  and 
thrusting  in  the  remark  spitefully. 

"  The  mere  fancy  of  a  possible  event. 
Remember  the  ghost  that  the  captain  sat 
down  upon  in  the  arm-chair,  and  then 
followed  into  bed — eh  ?  Halloa !  what,  not 
a  word  to  fling  at  a  dog — what,  quite 
chapfallen !  Sir,  I  shall  put  you  in  my 
next  lecture." 

"  Don't,  don't!  "  said  both  ghosts,  in  a 
whining  voice :  "  we'll  go  quietly  away  if 
you  promise  not  to." 

"  Miserable  impostors,  begone  I  I  know 
all  your  petty  tricks — the  voice  that  called 
Doctor  Johnson — the  young  ensign  who 
died  of  over-smoking  at  Kitchemegar,  and 
that  same  night  went  and  terrified  his 
poor  sister,  for  no  reason  in  the  world,  at 
999  Gower  Street.  Bah  !" 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  a  moment's  patience; 
let  me  put  one  argument  before  you. 
Look  at  the  haunted  houses  in  Great 
Britain,  the  rooms  where  no  one  can  be 
induced  to  sleep ;  look  at  the  clashing  of 
our  chains,  the  white  shrouds,  the  groans, 
the " 

As  the  Polish  skeleton  here  got  out  of 
breath,  his  lungs  being  evidently  out  of 
order,  the  professor  slipped  in,  and  con- 
tinued his  honest  tirade. 

"Stuff  about  your  haunted  houses — 
noises,  all  rats  and  draughts — unnatural 
deaths,  bad  sewers — rattling  chains,  rusty 
weathercocks — and  all  the  rest,  the  tricks 
of  deceiving  servants,  smugglers,  or 
thieves." 

Here  the  ghost  from  Poland  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  looked  piteously  at  the 
ghost  from  Guy's;  then  both  shrugged 
their  shoulders  noisily. 

"But  the  wet  ensign  who  comes  and 
tells  his  sister  he  is  drowned  at  Cutche- 
mabobbery,  in  the  Madras  Presidency  ?  " 

"Ah!  what  about  the  wet  ensign?" 
said  the  ghost  from  Guy's,  backing  up  his 
friend's  query  in  a  posing  and  rather  hurt 
sort  of  way. 

"  Hang  the  wet  ensign !  An  idiotic 
sister  nervous  with  incessant  late  hours, 
too  much  eau  de  Cologne,  and  the  peru- 
sal of  a  sensation  novel,  has  apprehen- 
sions about  her  brother  in  India,  eventu- 
ally goes  to  sleep  over  the  piano,  and 
dreams  she  sees  him  dripping." 


126 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT. 


"  But  she  did  n't  dream,"  said  Poland 

"No,  she  didn't  dream,"  said  Guy's,  re- 
eorting  again  to  his  eye-glass. 

"  But  I  say  she  did,"  said  the  professor. 

"She  did  n't." 

"She  did." 

"She  did  n't." 

The  skeleton  from  Guy's  here  clenched 
his  fist,  but  the  ghost  from  Poland  groaned. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  the  latter. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  the  former. 

"  On  my  word  of  honor,  my  dear  sir," 
said  the  ghost  from  Poland,  trying  once 
more,  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  vacuity 
where  his  heart  ought  to  have  been,  "  it 
was  not  a  dream." 

"It  was  not  a  dream,  on  my  con- 
science," said  Guy's. 

"Now  look  you  here,  gentlemen,"  said 
the  doctor,  getting  red  in  the  face,  and 
seriously  angry,  "I  have  borne  this,  I 
think,  long  enough.  I  have  proved  to  you 
both  that  you  don't  exist ;  why  don't  you 

§o  away  civilly  like  geu'lemen?"  (The 
octor  rather  slurred  the  pronunciation 
of  this  word).  "  You  are  impostors,  scare- 
crows, mere  bubbles;  air,  vapor, thought. 
Begone,  or,  I  give  you  fair  notice,  if  you 
are  not  off  in  five  minutes  by  that  clock,  I 
will  ring  the  bell,  fire  off  a  double-barrel 
gun,  spring  a  rattle,  throw  open  the  front 
door,  and  alarm  the  street  I" 

This  threat  seemed  to  have  a  great  effect 
on  the  two  skeletons.  Guy's  sat  down  and 
warmed  his  shin-bones  again  in  a  de- 
sponding manner,  but  on  Poland  touch- 
ing his  shoulder,  they  both  got  up  and 
began  to  whisper  together  in  a  violent  and 

agitated  way.  They  were  evidently  going. 

#         *        *  *          *         * 

The  doctor  fell  suddenly  into  a  deep 
sleep.  He  did  not  awake  until  Betsy  Jane, 
the  housemaid,  came  in  to  "  do  "  the  room 
at  seven  A.M.  That  fair  vestal  found  the 
gas  burning,  and  the  doctor  fast  asleep 
in  his  arm-chair. 

In  alluding  to  the  event  afterwards,  Dr. 
Pepsine's  friends  always  called  the  vision 
and  sleep  the  result  of  "  over-study ; " 
but  his  enemies  (and  what  great  man  is 
not  troubled  with  such  vermin?)  called  it 
"too  much  of  Mrs.  Fitz-Jones's  cham- 
pagne." 

WALTER  THOBNBUBT,  b.  1828. 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT. 

AN  ancient  story  lie  tell  you  anon 

Of  a  notable  prince,  that  was  called  King 

John ; 
And  he  ruled  England  with  maine  and  with 

might, 
For  he  did  great  wrong,   and   maintein'd 

little  right. 

And  lie  tell  you  a  story,  a  story  so  merrye, 
Concerning  the  Abbot  of  Canterburye ; 
How  for  his  house-keeping,  and  high  re- 

nowne, 
They  rode  poste  for  him   to  fair  London 

towne. 

An  hundred  men,  the  king  did  heare  say, 
The  abbot  kept  in  his  house  every  day  ; 
And  fifty  golde  chaynes,  without  any  doubt. 
In  velvet  coates  waited  the  abbot  about. 

How  now,  father  abbot,  I  heare  it  of  thee, 
Thou  keepest  a  farre  better  house  than  mee, 
And  for  thy  house-keeping  and  high  renowne, 
I  feare   thou   work'st  treason   against  my 
crown. 

My  liege,  quo'  the  abbot,  I  would  it  were 

knowne, 

I  never  spend  nothing  but  what  is  my  owne  ; 
And  I  trust  your  grace  will  doe  me  no  deere 
For  spending  of  my  owne  true-gotten  geere. 

Yes,  yes,  father  abbot,  thy  fault  it  is  highe, 
And  now  for  the  same  thou  needest  must 

dye; 
For  except  thou  canst  answer  me  questions 

three, 
Thy  head  shall  be  smitten  from  thy  bodie. 

And  first,  quo'  the  king,  when  I'm  in  this 

stead, 
With  my  crowne  of  golde  so  faire  on  my 

head, 

Among  all  my  liege-men,  so  noble  of  birthe, 
Thou  must  tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am 

worthe. 

Secondlye,  tell  me,  without  any  doubt, 
How  soone  I  may  ride  the  whole  world 

about ; 
And  at  the  third  question  thou   must  not 

shrink, 
But  tell  me  here  truly  what  I  do  think. 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT. 


127 


O,  these  are  hard  questions  for  my  shallow 

witt, 

Nor  I  cannot  answer  your  grace  as  yet ; 
But  if  you  will    give  me  but  three  weekes 

space, 
He  do  my  endeavour  to  answer  your  grace. 

Now  three  weeks  space  to  thee  will  I  give, 
And  that  is  the  longest  time  thou  hast  to  ; 

live; 
For  if  thou  dost  not  answer  my  questions 

three, 
Thy  lands  and  thy  livings  are  forfeit  to  mee. 

Away  rode  the  abbot,  all  sad  at  that  word, 
And 'he  rode  to  Cambridge  and  Oxenford  ; 
But  never  a  doctor  there  was  so  wise, 
That  could  with  his  learning  an  answer  de- 
vise. 

Then  home  rode  the  abbot,  of  comfort  so 

cold, 

And  he  mett  his  shepheard  agoing  to  fold ; 
How  now,  my  lord  abbot,  you  are  welcome 

home, 
What  newes   do   you    bring  us  from    good 

King  John  ? 

Sad  newes,  sad  newes,  shepheard,  I  must 

give: 

That  I  have  but  three  days  more  to  live  ; 
For  if  I  do  not  answer  him  questions  three, 
My  head  will  be  smitten  from  my  bodie. 

The  first  is  to  tell  him  there  in  that  stead, 
With  his  crowne  of  golde  so  fair  on  hia  head, 
Among  all  his  liege-men  so  noble  of  birth, 
To  within  one  penny  of  what  he  is  worth. 

The  seconde,  to  tell  him,  without  any  doubt, 
How  soone  he  may  ride  this  whole  world 

about ; 

And  at  the  third  question  I  must  not  shrinke, 
But  tell  him  there  truly  what  he  does  thinke. 

Now  cheare  up,  sire  abbot !  did  you  never 

hear  yet, 

That  a  fool  he  may  learne  a  wise  man  witt  ? 
Lend  me  horse,  and  serving-men,  and  your 

apparel, 
And  I'll  ride  to  London  to  answere  your 

quarrel. 

Nay,  frowne  not,  if  it  hath  bin  told  unto  mee, 
I  am  like  your  lordship  as  ever  may  bee  ; 
And  if  you  will  but  lend  me  your  gowne, 
There  is  none  shall  knowe  us  in  fair  London 
town. 


Now    horses   and   serving-men   thou  shall 

have, 
With  sumptuous   array   most   gallant   and 

brave ; 
With   crozier   and  miter,    and  rochet,  and 

cope, 
Fit  to  appeare  'fore  our  fader  the  pope. 

Now  welcome,  sire  abbot,  the  king  he  did 

say, 

'Tis  well  thou'rt  come  back  to  keepe  thy  day; 
For  and  if  thou  canst  answer  my  questions 

three, 
Thy  life  and  thy  living  both  saved  shall  bee. 

And  first,  when  thou  seeth  me  here  in  this 

stead, 

With  my  crowne  of  golde  so  fair  on  my  head, 
Among  all  my  liege-men  so  noble  of  birthe, 
Tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am  worth. 

For  thirty  pence  our  Saviour  was  sold 
Among  the  false  Jewes,  as  I  have  bin  told' 
And  twenty-nine  is  the  worth  of  thee, 
For  I  thinke  thou  art  one  penny  worser  than 
hee. 

The  king  he  laughed,  and  swore  by  St.  Bittel, 
I  did  not  think  I  had  been  worth  so  little  ! 
Now  secondly  tell  me,  without  any  doubt, 
How  soone  I  may   ride   this  whole  world 
about. 

You  must  rise  with  the  sun,  and  ride  with 

the  same, 

Until  the  next  morning  he  riseth  againe  ; 
And  then  your  grace  need  not  make  any 

doubt 
But  in  twenty-four  hours  you'll  ride  it  about. 

The  king  he  laughed,  and  swore  by  St.  Jone, 
I  did  not  think  it  could  be  gone  so  soone  1 
Now  from  the  third  question  thou  must  not 

shrinke, 
But  tell  me  here  truly  what  I  do  thinke. 

Yes,  that  I  shall  do,  and  make  your  grace 

merry  : 

You  thinke  I'm  the  abbot  of  Canterbury ; 
But  I'm  his  poor  shepheard,  as  plain  you 

may  see, 
That  am  come  to  beg  pardon  for  him  and 

for  mee. 

The  king  he   laughed,   and  swore  by  the 

masse, 
He  make  thee  lord  abbot  this  day  in  his 

place  I 


128 


AT  THE  PIANO. 


Now  naye,  my  liege,  be  not  in  such  speed, 
For  alacke  I  can  neither  write  ne  reade. 

Four  nobles  a  week,  then,  I  will  give  thee, 
For  this  merry  jest  thou  hast  showne  unto 

mee : 
And  tell  the  old  abbot,  when  thou  comest 

home, 
Thou  hast  brought  him  a  pardon  from  good 

King  John. 

THE  PERCY  RELIQUES. 


COMPLIMENTS. 

THE  Marquis  of  Santerre  who  was  blind, 
went  to  hear  the  opera  of  "  Euelinde,'1 
which  caused  a  furore  at  Paris,  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  XV.,  and  being  very  much 
pleased,  asked  his  attendant  who  wrote  it. 

'"Monsieur  Poinsinet,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  him,"  said 
the  Marquis. 

So,  afterward,  in  the  crush  room,  Mon- 
sieur Poinsinet  was  introduced  to  the 
blind  nobleman,  who  embraced  him  with 
effusion  and  said  :  "  My  dear  sir,  accept 
my  warmest  thanks  for  the  pleasure  you 
have  aiforded  me.  Your  opera  is  full  of 
beauty,  the  music  is  delicious.  Oh,  what 
a  misfortune  that  you  had  to  set  it  to  such 
trashy  words !" 

Now,  unfortunately,  it  was  the  libretto, 
and  not  the  music,  of  which  poor  Mon- 
sieur Poinsinet  was  the  author. 

Louis  XIV.,  who,  like  many  humble 
rhymesters,  somewhat  overrated  his  poeti- 
cal powers,  showed  a  copy  of  verses  to 
Boileau,  and  asked  his  candid  opinion  of 
them. 

"  Ah,  sire,"  says  the  poet,  "  I  am  more 
convinced  than  ever  that  nothing  is  im- 
possible to  your  majesty  ;  you  desired  to 
write  some  poor  rhymes,  and  you  have 
succeeded  in  making  them  positively  de- 
testable ! " 


A  DESIEABLE  HORSE. 

"YES,"  said  the  driver  of  the  car 
to  the  man  who  stood  on  the  steps, 
"  she's  a  mighty  nice  mare  for  car  work — 
least  ways  to  look  at.  Kick  ?  Well,  you 
bet.  Since  I've  had  her  she  's  removed 
the  insides  from  two  horses  hitched  in 


with  her ;  she's  caved  in  her  stall  times 
enough  to  make  one  carpenter  rich,  and 
livened  up  more'n  one  passenger.  Ee- 
member  one  case  in  particular :  Nice  old 
gent  with  youngsters,  goin'  out  for  a  Sun- 
day picnic,  had  a  basket  of  lunch  covered 
up  with  a  table-cloth.  Jest  as  he  was 
gettin'  off,  the  mare  worked  round  when 
I  wasn't  lookin',  and  she  fetched  that 
basket  one  clatter  with  both  feet — I  don't 
rightly  know  but  she  got  in  all  four— any- 
ways there  was  lunch  for  everybody  with- 
in ten  rods,  whether  he  wanted  or  not ; 
the  paper  boys  mostly  did.  Think  the 
old  man  saved  the  handle  of  a  ham  and 
the  cork  of  one  bottle.  Sich  a  nice-look- 
ing beast  as  she  is,  too.  Why,  that  mare 
has  been  bought  not  less'n  three  times, 
'cause  she  was  sech  a  gentle-lookin'  lady's 
horse.  Well,  it's  good  for  doctors  and 
wagon-makers,  anyhow.  Always  staves 
up  the  family  and  gets  back  into  the  team 
in  less'n  a  week.  Never  was  broke,  she 
wasn't,  and  never  will  be  until  she  falls 
off  a  house." 


AT  THE  PIANO. 

IT  was  a  young  woman,  with  as  many 
white  flounces  around  her  as  the  planet 
Saturn  has  rings.  She  gave  the  music- 
stool  a  whirl  or  two,  and  fluffed  down  in 
it  like  a  twirl  of  soap-suds  in  a  hand  basin. 
Then  she  pushed  up  her  cuffs  as  if  she 
was  going  to  fight  for  the  champion's 
belt.  Then  she  worked  her  wrists  and 
hands — to  limber  'em,  I  suppose — and 
spread  out  her  fingers  until  they  looked 
as  though  they  would  pretty  much  cover 
the  key-board,  from  the  growling  end 
down  to  the  little  squeaky  one.  Then 
these  two  hands  of  hers  made  a  jump  at 
the  keys  as  if  they  were  a  couple  of  tigers 
coming  down  upon  a  flock  of  black  and 
white  sheep,  and  the  piano  gave  a  great 
howl,  as  if  its  tail  had  been  trod  upon. 
Dead  stop — so  still  you  could  hear  your 
hair  growing.  Then  another  howl,  as  if 
the  cow  had  two  tails,  and  you  had  trod- 
den on  both  of  'em  at  once,  and  then  a 
grand  clatter  and  scramble  and  string  of 
jumps,  up  and  down,  back  and  forward, 
one  hand  over  the  other  like  a  stampede 
of  rats  and  mice  more  than  anything  I 
call  music. —  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


129 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 

BY  THE  SPECTATOR. 

[JOSEPH  ADDISON,  the  eldest  son  of  Lan- 
celot Addison,  D.D.,  Dean  of  Lichfield,  was 
born  at  Milston,  near  Ambros-Burv,  Wilt- 
shire, May  1,  Io72.  On  finishing  his  pre- 
liminary studies  at  Amesbury  and  Salis- 
bury, he  became  an  inmate  of  the  Charter- 
house, where  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Richard  Steele,  afterwards  his  associate  in 
literary  work  and  fame.  At  the  age  of  fif- 
teen he  entered  King's  College,  Oxford, 
where  by  his  diligent  study  of  the  classics 
he  is  said  to  have  "acquired  an  elegant 
Latin  style  before  he  arrived  at  that  age  in 
which  lads  usually  begin  to  write  good  Eng- 
lish." Some  verses  addressed  by  him  at  the 
age  of  twenty-two  years,  to  Dryden,  elicited 
the  praise  of  the  great  poet  himself.  His 
growing  reputation  was  advanced  by  a  trans- 
lation of  a  part  of  Virgil's  Georgics ;  by  a 
critical  preface  to  Dryden's  version  of  the 
Georgics;  and  by  a  versified  criticism  on 
some  of  the  principal  English  poets,  ad- 
dressed to  Sacheverell.  In  1695  a  poem 
addressed  to  King  William,  and  dedicated 
to  Lord  Keeper  Somers,  secured  for  him  a 
pension  of  £300  per  annum.  The  publica- 
tion about  this  time  of  his  Latin  poems, 
inscribed  to  Mr.  Montague  (afterwards  Lord 
Halifax),  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  pro- 
cured him  another  influential  friend.  The 
question  of  his  life-career  now  pressed  for  a 
decision.  His  original  intention  had  been 
to  take  holy  orders,  but,  partly  owing  to  the 
counsel  of  Lord  Halifax,  this  purpose  was 
abandoned.  It  is  an  undetermined  question 
whether  ambition,  kindled  by  the  brilliant 
political  prospects  opening  before  him,  or  a 
conscientious  shrinking  from  a  sacred  office 
for  whose  proper  exercise  he  felt  disquali- 
fied, had  most  to  do  with  this  grave  decision. 
In  1699,  Addison  visited  Italy.  The  death 
of  King  William  in  1702  brought  a  new  set 
of  statesmen  into  power,  and  the  enthusias- 
tic young  traveller  was  obliged,  by  the  loss 
of  his  pension,  suddenly  to  return  to  Eng- 
land and  to  consider  how  he  might  best 
secure  a  livelihood.  After  the  battle  of 
Blenheim,  the  Lord  Treasurer  Godolphin 
inquired  for  a  poet  to  celebrate  the  event. 
Lord  Halifax  named  Addison,  who  being 
invited,  accepted  the  task  and  discharged  it 
•o  satisfactorily  that  he  was  appointed  Com- 
VOL.  ii.— w.  H. 


missioner  of  Appeals,  and,  in  1706,  Under- 
secretary of  State.  His  able  pen  was  of 
great  value  to  the  ministry.  In  1709,  he 
accompanied  the  Marquis  of  Wharton  to 
Ireland  as  Secretary. 

To  the  Toiler,  which  was  started  by  Steele 
in  1709,  Addison  soon  became  an  important 
contributor.  He  also  wrote  five  articles  for 
The  Wliig  Examiner,  the  first  number  of 
which  appeared  Sept.  14,  1710.  The  Toiler 
was  discontinued  Jan.  2,  1711,  and  on  the 
first  of  the  ensuing  March  the  Spectator 
made  its  appearance.  With  this  famous 
periodical,  which  is  still  read  with  delight, 
Addison's  name  is  inseparably  linked.  His 
contributions  are  signed  "  C.  L.  I,"  or  "  0," 
— the  letters  together  forming  the  word 
"Clio."  Addison  also  contributed  freely  to 
The  Guardian,  begun  Mar.  12,  1713.  His 
tragedy  of  Cato,  which  was  acted  for  thirty, 
five  consecutive  nights,  appeared  in  1713; 
and  in  the  same  year  he  published  his 
political  squib,  "  The  Trial  and  Conviction 
of  Count  Tariff."  His  verses  to  Sir  God- 
frey Kneller,  and  some  minor  pieces,  were 
printed  in  1714.  In  1716  Addison  married 
the  dowager  Countess  of  Warwick,  a  union 
which  by  no  means  increased  his  happiness. 
He  died  June  17,  1719,  aged  47  years. 
"  Before  he  expired,  he  sent  for  his  step-son, 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  then  in  his  21st  year, 
and  while  the  young  nobleman  stood  at  his 
bedside  to  receive  his  commands,  grasping 
his  hand,  he  said  he  had  called  him  that  he 
might  see  with  what  peace  a  Christian  could 
die.  He  left  an  only  daughter  by  the  Coun- 
tess." 

Dr.  Johnson  pays  this  lofty  tribute  to 
Addison:  "He  not  only  made  the  proper 
use  of  wit  himself,  but  taught  it  to  others, 
and  from  his  time  it  has  been  generally 
subservient  to  the  cause  of  reason  and  of 
truth.  No  greater  felicity  can  genius  attain 
than  that  of  having  purified  intellectual 
pleasure,  separated  mirth  from  indecency, 
and  wit  from  licentiousness;  of  having 
taught  a  succession  of  writers  to  bring  ele- 
gance and  gayety  to  the  aid  of  goodness; 
and,  if  I  may  use  expressions  yet  more  aw- 
ful, of  having  'turned  many  to  righteous- 
ness.' " 

Macaulay  says :  "As  a  moral  satirist,  he 
[Addison]  stands  unrivalled.  .  .  In  wit, 
properly  so  called,  Addison  was  not  inferior 
to  Cowley  or  Butler.  .  .  The  still  higher 
faculty  of  invention,  Addison  possessed  in 
still  larger  measure.  .  .  But  what  shall 
we  say  of  Addison's  humor?  .  We  own 

9 


130 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


that  it  is  in  our  opinion  of  a  more  delicious 
flavor  than  that  of  either  Swift  or  Voltaire." 
Macaulay  regards  him,  moreover,  "  not  only 
as  the  greatest  of  the  English  essayists,  but 
as  the  forerunner  of  the  great  English  nov- 
elists." "  In  refined  and  delicate  humor," 
says  Prof.  C.  D.  Cleveland,  "  Addison  has 
no  superior,  if  he  has  any  equal,  in  English 
prose  literature." 

By  common  consent,  the  most  delightful 
and  original  of  all  Addison's  productions  is 
that  series  of  sketches  in  the  Spectator,  of 
which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  is  the  central 
figure.  "  Sir  Roger  is  an  absolute  creation  ; 
the  gentle  yet  vivid  imagination,  the  gay 
and  cheerful  spirit  of  humor,  the  keen, 
shrewd  observation,  and  fine  raillery  of 
foibles  which  Addison  has  displayed  in  this 
felicitous  characterization,  render  it  a  work 
of  pure  genius." 

SIB  RICHARD  STEELE  was  born  in  Dub- 
lin in  the  year  1671.  He  was  educated  at 
the  Charter-house  school,  and  afterwards  at 
Merton  College,  Oxford.  Leaving  college 
without  taking  a  degree,  he  became  an  en- 
sign in  the  horse  guards.  He  rose  to  the 
rank  of  a  captain,  but  his  military  life  was 
gay  and  dissipated.  In  the  midst  of  this 
profligate  course  he  wrote  The  Christian 
Hero,  a  religious  treatise  composed  partly 
with  the  view  of  checking  his  own  irregu- 
larities, which  it  failed  to  do.  His  next 
literary  productions  were  comedies :  The 
Funeral,  or  Grief  d  la  Mode,  appeared  in 
1702;  The  Tender  Husband,  in  1703;  and 
The  Lying  Lover,  in  1704.  About  this  time 
he  married  a  rich  West  Indian  lady  who 
survived  the  union  only  a  few  months ; 
and  in  1706  he  received  the  appointment  of 
Gazetteer,  with  a  salary  of  £300,  and  the 
post  of  gentleman  usher  to  prince  George, 
with  a  salary  of  £100.  In  1707  he  married 
a  Welsh  lady,  Mary  Scurlock,  who  had  a 
fortune  of  £400  a  year ;  but  extravagant 
living  soon  involved  the  pair  in  financial 
difficulties  which  became  chronic.  In  1709 
Steele  began  The  Tatler,  which  was  issued 
thrice  a  week,  and  in  March,  1711  (two 
months  after  the  discontinuance  of  The 
Tatler),  he  launched  the  Spectator,  a  daily 
journal,  which  had  an  extraordinary  suc- 
cess, and  whose  brilliant  contents  now  form 
a  part  of  the  English  classics.  In  1713  he 
started  the  Guardian.  To  each  of  these 
periodicals  Addison  was  a  leading  con- 
tributor. The  Lover,  The  Reader,  and  other 
similar  periodical  ventures  were  short-lived. 
Steele  took  an  active  part  in  the  political 


affairs  of  his  day,  being  an  ardent  Whig. 
He  was  a  member  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, but  was  expelled  from  that  body  on 
account  of  his  pamphlets,-  The  Crisis  and 
The  Englishman.  When  his  party  returned 
to  power,  after  the  death  of  Queen  Anne, 
Steele  obtained  an  appointment  in  the 
king's  household  and  was  again  elected  to 
Parliament.  In  1717  he  was  named  one 
of  the  Commissioners  for  the  forfeited  estates 
in  Scotland.  In  1722  his  successful  comedy 
of  The  Conscious  Lovers  was  produced. 
His  health  began  to  decline  about  this  time, 
and  he  spent  the  last  three  years  of  his  life 
in  retirement  in  Wales,  where  he  died  Sept. 
21,  1729.  Steele's  literary  fame  rests 
chiefly  on  his  essays.  Of  the  contents  of 
The  Tatler,  The  Spectator  and  of  The  Guar- 
dian, he  contributed,  respectively  188,  240, 
and  82  papers.  It  is  Steele's  misfortune  to  be 
almost  invariably  put  in  comparison  with 
Addison  ;  and  yet  it  has  been  truly  remarked 
that  if  in  taste  and  delicate  humor  he  was 
Addison's  inferior,  he  was  fully  his  equal  in 
invention  and  insight  into  human  character 
and  motives.  Hazlitt  says  :  "  I  am  far  from 
wishing  to  depreciate  Addison's  talents,  but 
I  am  anxious  to  do  justice  to  Steele,  who 
was,  I  think,  upon  the  whole,  a  less  artificial 
and  more  original  writer.  The  humorous  de- 
scriptions of  Steele  resemble  loose  sketches 
or  fragments  of  a  comedy ;  those  of  Addi- 
son are  rather  comments  or  ingenious  para- 
phrases on  the  original  text."  "  The  great 
and  appropriate  praise  of  Steele,"  says  Dr. 
Drake,  "  is  to  have  been  the  first  who,  after 
the  licentious  age  of  Charles  the  Second, 
endeavored  to  introduce  the  Virtues  on  the 
stage."  "  Steele's  Conscious  Lovers,1'1  adds 
Hallam,  "  is  the  first  comedy  which  can  be 
called  moral." 

EUSTACE  BUDGELL,  a  son  of  Gilbert 
Budgell,  D.  D.,  was  born  at  St.  Thomas, 
near  Exeter,  England,  in  1685,  and  was 
educated  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  Al- 
though destined  by  his  father  for  the  bar, 
Budgell's  taste  for  literature  overruled  that 
intention.  On  removing  to  London,  he 
sought  an  intimacy  with  Addison.  who  was 
a  first  cousin  of  his  mother,  and  Addison, 
being  then  Secretary  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant 
of  Ireland,  gave  him  a  clerkship  in  his  of- 
fice. His  talents  made  him  other  influen- 
tial friends,  but  a  captious  and  quarrelsome 
temper  and  an  inordinate  vanity  marred 
alike  the  success  and  the  happiness  of  his 
life.  Budgell  contributed  several  papers 
to  The  Tatler  before  he  had  attained  hig 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


131 


majority ;  and  was  the  author  of  no  less 
than  thirty-seven  papers  in  The  Spectator, 
and  of  two  in  The  Guardian.  He  was  a 
prominent  contributor  to  The  Craftsman, 
and,  towards  the  end  of  1732,  he  started 
The  Bee,  a  weekly  magazine,  which  was 
continued  two  years.  His  translation,  from 
the  Greek,  of  Theophrastus's  Characters  was 
warmly  commended.  His  humorous  epi- 
logue to  Ambrose  Philips's  Distressed 
Mother  was  one  of  the  most  popular  pro- 
ductions of  the  day ;  but,  as  in  the  case  of 
his  illustrious  associates,  Addison  and 
Steele,  Budgell's  fame  is  due  to  his  essays 
— especially  to  those  in  The  Spectator. 
He  died  by  his  own  hand,  under  a  cloud, 
in  1736.  Budgell  is  justly  praised  for  "en- 
tering with  perfect  accuracy  into  the  con- 
ception and  keeping  of  a  character  so  origi- 
nal as  that  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley."  Good 
examples  of  his  felicity  in  this  regard  are 
afforded  by  Chapters  X.  and  XXV.,  below. 
The  larger  number  of  the  papers  of 
which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  is  made  up,  are 
by  Addison,  and  his  authorship  may  be  as- 
sumed, wherever  special  credit  is  not  given 
to  another.] 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

THE  aim  of  the  Spectator,  as  defined  by 
Dr.  Johnson,  was  to  teach  the  minuter 
decencies  and  inferior  duties ;  to  regulate 
the  practice  of  daily  conversation ;  to  cor- 
rect those  depravities  which  are  rather 
ridiculous  than  criminal,  and  remove 
those  grievances  which  if  they  produce 
no  lasting  calamities,  impress  hourly 
vexation."  The  machinery  adopted  by 
the  Spectator  to  accomplish  this  object—- 
to soften  the  harshness  of  his  censures,  to 
disarm  the  sharpest  strictures  of  the 
smallest  offence — was  a  club ;  the  members 
of  which — after  the  grave,  taciturn,  ubi- 
quitous, keen,  but  kindly,  Spectator  him- 
self— were  representatives  of  the  various 
classes  of  society  whose  faults  and  ab- 
surdities rendered  them  most  in  need  of 
pertinent  admonition.  To  the  coarse,  in- 
temperate, ignorant  and  arrogant  country 
esquires  of  that  day,  the  gentle  mentor 
spoke  through  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley ;  no 
model  magistrate,  or  self-righteous  censor ; 
but  a  hearty,  humorous,  plain  old  gentle- 
man— one  of  themselves — with  enough 
of  their  foibles,  tastes  and  prejudices  to 
win  their  sympathies  and  to  charm  them 
into  reformation. 


None  of  the  characters  were  elaborated 
with  so  much  care — to  none  was  imparted 
such  thorough  completeness,  as  that  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley ;  between  which 
(to  quote  a  saying  of  Horace  Wai  pole) 
and  Sir  John  Falstaff — though  a  wide  in- 
terval— nothing  like  it  exists  in  literature 
for  truthfulness  and  finish.  Sir  Roger's 
eccentricities  do  not,  as  some  have  written, 
Disturb  the  consistency  of  the  character : 
on  the  contrary  they  strengthen  its  in- 
dividuality. If  they  be  discords,  instead 
of  jarring,  they  enrich  the  harmony. 
They  are  precisely  the  humors  of  an 
honest,  elderly,  sensitive  bachelor,  whose 
early  history  had  been  dashed  with  the 
romance  of  his  having  beea  jilted.  Sir 
Roger  does  nothing  and  says  nothing 
which  might  not  have  been  said  and  done, 
in  his  day,  by  any  warm-hearted  rustic 
gentleman  who  had  been  irredeemably 
crossed  in  love.  Indeed,  turning  thus 
from  Nature  to  the  consummate  Art 
which  copied  her,  it  can  scarcely  be  de- 
nied that  the  character  owes  its  immortality 
to  the  quaint  traits  of  extravagance  which 
have  been  stigmatized  as  blemishes :  with- 
out impairing  the  efficacy  of  Sir  Roger  as 
a  special  admonitory  example  to  the 
country  esquire  of  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne,  his  oddities  were  destined  to  rivet 
the  interest  and  excite  the  affectionate 
smile  of  all  readers  in  all  time. 

The  essays  which  separate  the  Coverley 
papers  from  one  another,  however  exqui- 
site in  themselves,  break  the  spell  which 
binds  the  reader  while  lingering  over  the 
benevolence  or  humor  of  the  Worcester- 
shire baronet.  Even  when  arranged  more 
conveniently  in  a  sequence,  as  in  this 
book,  it  is  not  pleasing  to  remember  that 
so  captivating  an  identity  was  originated 
and  wrought  out  by  "  several  hands." 
Every  fresh  lineament  of  the  good  Sir 
Roger  so  strengthens  the  sense  of  Unity, 
that  we  rather  love  to  be  deluded  with 
the  notion  that  the  whole  was  the  work  of 
one  mind.  With  an  art  so  perfect  that  it 
conceals  art,  we  prefer  the  ignorance 
which  is  our  bliss,  to  the  knowledge  that 
reveals  the  companionships,  contrivances, 
or  agonies  of  authorcraft.  Though  cu- 
riosity is  gratified,  sentiment  is  hurt, 
when  we  are  told  that  the  outlines  of  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley  were  imagined  and 
partly  traced  by  Sir  Richard  Steele  ;  that 
the  coloring  and  more  prominent  linea- 
ments were  elaborated  by  Joseph  Addi- 


132 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


son ;  thar  some  of  the  back -ground  was 
put  in  by  Eustace  Budgell ;  and,  that  the 
portrait  was  defaced  by  either  Steele  or 
Thomas  Tickell  with  a  deformity  which 
Addison  repudiated,  and  which  is  not 
here  reproduced. 

The  sum  of  the  account  in  hard  figures 
stands  thus  :— Sir  Roger  de  Coverley's 
adventures,  opinions,  and  conversations 
occur  in  thirty  of  the  Spectator's  papers. 
Of  these,  Addison  wrote  twenty,  BudgeH 
two,  and  Steele  eight ;  if  it  be  certain  that 
he  was  the  author  of  the  obnoxious  por- 
tion of  No.  410;  which  has  also  been 
attributed  to  Tickell. 

But  over  this  divided  labor,  all  evidence 
proves  that  Addison  exercised  a  rigid  and 
harmonising  editorial  vigilance.  In  the 
words  of  an  accurate  critic,  "  Addison 
took  the  rude  outlines  into  his  own  hands, 
retouched  them,  colored  them ;  and  is, 
in  truth,  the  creator  of  the  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  and  the  Will  Honeycomb  with 
whom  we  are  all  familiar."  The  habits  of 
Addison  and  Steele  were  those  of  a  close 
literary  partnership.  What  Steele's  quick 
impatient  genius  planned,  Addison's  rich 
taste  and  thoughtful  industry  executed: 
what  were,  and  would  perhaps  have  ever 
remained,  dreams  in  Steele's  brain,  came 
out  distinct  realities  from  under  Addison's 
hand,  Between  them  Pope's  maxim  was 
fully  obeyed : — 

"  To  write  with  fervor  and  correct  with  phlegm." 

Steele  supplied  some  of  the  fervor:  Addi- 
son all  the  finish,  all  the  phlegm. 

But,  it  must  be  repeated,  those  who 
love  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  love  not  these 
ungenial  revelations.  They  like  to  feel 
that  the  fine-hearted  creation  comes  from 
a  single  source; — from  those  nicely-ba- 
lanced stores  of  touching  pathos  and  re- 
fined humor ;  of  sound  common-sense  and 
polished  wit ;  of  keen  satire  and  kind 
words ;  of  sharp  observation  and  genial 
description  which  exist  in  the  single  gen- 
tleman who  paints  his  own  portrait  in  the 
first  pages,  and  who  is  known  wherever 
English  letters  can  be  read,  as 

"THE  SPECTATOR." 


THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

Nonfumum  exfulgore,  ted  exfumo  dare  lucem 
Cogitai,  ut  specioia  dthinc  miracula  promat. — HOR. 

I  HAVE  observed,  that  a  reader  seldom 


peruses  a  book  with  pleasure,  until  h« 
knows  whether  the  writer  of  it  be  a  black 
or  a  fair  man,  of  a  mild  or  choleric  dis- 
position, married  or  a  bachelor,  with  other 
particulars  of  the  like  nature,  that  con- 
duce very  much  to  the  right  understand- 
ing of  an  author.  To  gratify  this  curiosity, 
which  is  so  natural  to  a  reader,  I  desig'n 
this  paper  and  my  next  as  prefatory  dis- 
courses to  my  following  writings,  and 
shall  give  some  account  in  them  of  the 
several  persons  that  are  engaged  in  this 
work.  As  the  chief  trouble  of  compiling 
digesting,  and  correcting  will  fall  to  my 
share,  I  must  do  myself  the  justice  to  open 
the  work  with  my  own  history. 

I  was  born  to  a  small  hereditary  estate, 
which  according  to  the  tradition  of  the 
village  where  it  lies,  was  bounded  by  the 
same  hedges  and  ditches  in  William  the 
conqueror's  time  that  it  is  at  present,  and 
has  been  delivered  down  from  father  to  son 
whole  and  entire  without  the  loss  or  ac- 
quisition of  a  single  field  or  meadow, 
during  the  space  of  six  hundred  years. 
There  runs  a  story  in  the  family,  that  my 
mother  dreamt  that  she  had  brought  forth 
a  judge :  Whether  this  might  proceed  from 
a  law-suit  which  was  then  depending  in  the 
family,  or  my  father's  being  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  I  cannot  determine  ;  for  I  am  not  so 
vain  as  to  think  it  presaged  any  dignity  that 
I  should  arrive  at  in  my  future  life,  though 
that  was  the  interpretation  which  the 
neighborhood  put  upon  it.  The  gravity 
of  my  behaviour  at  my  very  first  appear- 
ance in  the  world,  seemed  to  favor  my 
mother's  dream  ;  for,  as  she  has  often  told 
me,  I  threw  away  my  rattle  before  I  was 
two  months  old,  and  would  not  make  use 
of  my  coral  until  they  had  taken  away 
the  bells  from  it. 

Aa  for  the  rest  of  my  infancy,  there 
being  nothing  in  it  remarkable,  I  shall 
pass  it  over  in  silence.  I  find  that,  during 
my  nonage,  I  had  the  reputation  of  a  very 
sullen  youth,  but  was  always  a  favorite  of 
my  schoolmaster,  who  used  to  say  that  my 
parts  were  solid,  and  would  wear  well.  I 
had  not  been  long  at  the  university,  be- 
fore I  distinguished  myself  by  a  most  pro- 
found silence ;  for  during  the  space  of 
eight  years,  excepting  in  the  public  ex- 
ercises of  the  college,  I  scarce  uttered 
the  quantity  of  an  hundred  words ;  and 
indeed  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  spoke 
three  sentences  together  in  my  whole  life. 
Whilst  I  was  in  tJtiis  learned  body,  I  ap- 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


133 


piled  myself  with  so  much  diligence  to  my 
studies,  that  there  are  very' few  celebrated 
books,  either  in  the  learned  or  the  modern 
tongues,  which  I  am  not  acquainted  with. 

Upon  the  death  of  my  father,  I  was  re- 
solved to  travel  into  foreign  countries, 
and  therefore  left  the  university,  with  the 
character  of  an  odd  unaccountable  fellow, 
that  had  a  great  deal  of  learning,  if  I 
would  but  show  it.  An  insatiable  thirst 
after  knowledge  carried  me  into  all  the 
countries  of  Europe,  in  which  there  was 
any  thing  new  or  strange  to  be  seen ;  nay, 
to  such  a  degree  was  my  curiosity  raised, 
that  having  read  the  controversies  of  some 
great  men  concerning  the  antiquities  of 
Egypt,  I  made  a  voyage  to  Grand  Cairo, 
on  purpose  to  take  the  measure  of  a  Pyra- 
mid :  And  as  soon  as  I  had  set  myself 
right  in  that  particular,  returned  to  my 
native  country  with  great  satisfaction. 

I  have  passed  my  latter  years  in  this 
city,  where  I  am  frequently  seen  in  most 
public  places,  though  there  are  not  above 
half  a  dozen  of  my  select  friends  that 
know  me ;  of  whom  my  next  paper  shall 
give  a  more  particular  account.  There  is 
no  place  of  general  resort,  wherein  I  do 
not  often  make  my  appearance ;  some- 
times I  am  seen  thrusting  my  head  into  a 
round  of  politicians  at  Will's,  and  listening 
with  great  attetfoion  to  the  narratives 
that  are  made  in  those  little  circular 
audiences.  Sometimes  I  smoke  a  pipe  at 
Child's,  and  whilst  I  seem  attentive  to 
nothing  but  the  postman,  overhear  the 
conversation  of  every  table  in  the  room. 
I  appear  on  Sunday  nights  at  St.  James's 
Coffee-house,1  and  sometimes  join  the 


little  committee  of  politics  in  the  inner- 
room,  as  one  who  comes  there  to  hear 
and  improve.  My  face  is  likewise  very 
well  known  at  the  Grecian,  the  Cocoa- 
Tree,  and  in  the  Theatres  both  of  Drury- 
Lane  and  the  Hay-Market.  I  have  been 
taken  for  a  merchant  upon  the  Exchange 
for  above  these  ten  years,  and  sometimes 
pass  for  a  Jew  in  the  assembly  of  stock- 
jobbers at  Jonathan's :  In  short,  where- 
ever  I  see  a  cluster  of  people,  I  alwaya 
mix  with  them,  though  I  never  open  my 
lips  but  in  my  own  club. 

Thus  I  live  in  the  world  rather  as  a 
spectator  of  mankind,  than  as  one  of  the 
species;  by  which  means:;!  have  made 
myself  a  speculative  statesman,  soldier, 
merchant,  and  artizan,  without  ever  med- 
dling with  any  practical  part  in  life.  I  am 
very  well  versed  in  the  theory  of  a  hus- 
band or  a  father,  and  can  discern  the 
errors  in  the  economy,  business,  and 
diversion  of  others,  better  than  those  who 
are  engaged  in  them ;  as  standers-by  dis- 
cover blots,  which  are  apt  to  escape  those 
who  are  in  the  game.  I  never  espoused 
any  party  with  violence,  and  am  resolved 
to  observe  an  exact  neutrality  between 
the  whigs  and  tories,  unless  I  shall  be 
forced  to  declare  myself  by  the  hostilities 
of  either  side.  In  short,  I  have  acted  in 
all  the  parts  of  my  life  as  a  looker-on, 
which  is  the  character  I  intend  to  preserve 
in  this  paper. 

Th,3re  are  three  very  material  pointr 
which  I  have  not  spoken  to  in  this  paper 
and  which,  for  several  important  reasons, 
I  must  keep  to  myself,  at  least  for  some 
time :  I  mean,  an  account  of  my  name, 


1  Tnis  COFFEK-HOCTE.  The  chief  places  of  resort  were 
coffee  and  chocolate  houses,  in  which  some  men  almost 
lived,  insomuch  that  whoever  wished  to  find  a  gentle- 
man commonly  asked,  not  where  he  resided,  but  which 
coffee-house  he  frequented?  Here  the  proud  nobleman 
or  country  squire  were  not  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
genteel  thief  and  daring  highwayman.  "  Pray  Sir," 
•ays  Aimwell  to  Gibbet,  in  Farquhar's  Beaux  Stratagem, 
"  ha'n't  I  seen  your  face  at  Will's  coffee-house  ?  "  The 
robber's  reply  is  : — "  Yes,  Sir ;  and  at  White's  too." 

The  coffee  houses,  from  the  time  of  their  commence- 
ment in  1652,  served  Instead  of  newspapers : — they  were 
mrenx  for  political  discussion.  Journalism  was  then  in 
its  infancy ;  the  first  daily  newspaper  (The  Daily  Courant) 
Wts  scarcely  two  years  old,  and  was  too  small  to  contain 
»ucn  news ;  as  were  the  other  Journals  then  extant. 
Hence  the  fiercely  contested  polemics  of  the  period 
were  either  waged  in  single  pamphlets  or  in  periodicals 
started  to  advocate  or  to  oppose  gome  particular  ques- 


tion, and  laid  down  when  that  was  settled.  The  peace- 
ful leading  article  and  mild  letter  "  to  the  Editor  "  had 
not  come  into  vogue  as  safety  valves  for  the  escape  of 
overboiling  party  zeal ;  and  the  hot  blood,  roused  in 
public  rooms  to  quarrelling  pitch,  was  too  often  cooled 
by  the  rapier's  point. 

Each  coffee-house  had  its  political  or  literary  speci- 
alty ;  and  of  those  enumerated  in  the  present  paper, 
Will's  was  the  rendezvous  for  the  wits  and  poets.  It 
was  named  after  William  Urwin,  its  proprietor,  and  was 
situated  at  No.  1  Bow  Street,  at  the  corner  of  Great 
Russell  Street,  Covent  Garden  ;  the  coffee-room  was  on 
the  first  floor,  the  lower  part  having  been  occupied  as  a 
retail  shop.  Dryden's  patronage  and  frequent  appearance 
made  the  reputation  of  the  house,  which  was  afterwards 
maintained  by  other  celebrated  characters.  It  was  from 
Will's  coffee-house  that  the  Tatler  dated  his  poetry. 

Child's  was  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard.  Its  vicinity  ta 
the  Cathedral  and  Doctor's  Commons,  made  it  the  report 


134 


SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


my  age,  and  my  lodgings.  I  must  con- 
fess, I  would  gratify  my  reader  in  any 
thing  that  is  reasonable ;  but  as  for  these 
three  particulars,  though  I  am  sensible 
they  might  tend  very  much  to  the  embel- 
lishment of  my  paper,  I  cannot  yet  come 
to  a  resolution  of  communicating  them  to 
the  public.  They  would  indeed  draw 
me  out  of  that  obscurity  which  I  have 
enjoyed  for  many  years,  and  expose  me  in 
public  places  to  several  salutes  and  civili- 
ties, which  have  been  always  very  dis- 
agreeable to  me ;  for  the  greatest  pain  I 
can  suffer,  is  the  being  talked  to,  and  being 
stared  at.  It  is  for  this  reason  likewise, 
that  I  keep  my  complexion  and  dress  as 
very  great  secrets ;  though  it  is  not  impossi- 
ble, but  I  may  make  discoveries  of  both  in 
the  progress  of  the  work  I  have  undertaken. 
After  having  been  thus  particular  upon 
myself,  I  shall  in  to-morrow's  paper  give 
an  account  of  those  gentlemen  who  are 
concerned  with  me  in  this  work :  for,  as  I 
have  before  intimated,  a  plan  of  it  is  laid 
and  concerted  (as  all  other  matters  of 
importance  are)  in  a  club.  However,  as 
my  friends  have  engaged  me  to  stand  in 

of  the  clergy  and  other  ecclesiastical  loungers.  In  one 
respect  Child's  was  superseded  by  the  Chapter  in  Pater- 
noster Bow. 

The  St.  James's  was  the  Spectator's  head-quarters.  It 
stood  at  the  end  of  Pall  Mall— of  which  it  commanded 
a  perspective  view — near  to,  if  not  upon  the  site  of  what 
is  now  No.  87  St.  James's  Street,  and  close  to  Ozinda's 
chocolate  house.  These  were  the  great  party  rallying 
places ;  "  a  Whig,"  says  de  Foe,  "  would  no  more  go  to 
the  Cocoa  Tree  or  Ozinda's  than  a  Tory  would  be  seen 
at  St.  James's."  Swift,  however,  frequented  the  latter 
during  his  sojourn  in  London,  1710-13;  till  fighting  in 
the  van  of  the  Tory  ranks,  he  could  no  longer  show  face 
there,  and  was  obliged  to  relinquish  the  society  of  those 
literary  friends,  whom,  though  Whigs,  he  cherished. 

The  Grecian,  in  Devereux  Court,  derived  its  name  from 
a  Greek  named  Constantino,  who  introduced  a  new  and 
improved  method  of  making  coffee,  from  the  land  of 
Epicurus.  Perhaps  from  this  cause,  or  from  having  set 
up  his  apparatus  close  to  the  Temple,  he  drew  the 
learned  to  his  rooms.  "  All  accounts  of  learning,"  saith 
the  Tatler,  "  shall  be  under  the  title  of  the  Grecian." 
The  glory  of  the  Grecian  outlasted  that  of  the  rest,  and 
K  remained  a  tavern  till  1843. 

Jonathan's,  in  Change  Alley,  the  general  mart  for 
itock-jobbers,  was  the  precursor  of  the  present  Stock 
Exchange  in  Capel  Court.  The  hero  of  Mrs.  Centlivre's 
comedy,  "A  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife,"  performed  at 
Jonathan's  his  most  successful  deception  on  the  city 
guardian  of  his  mistress. 

The  word  Club  as  applied  to  convivial  meetings,  it  de- 


the  front,  those  who  have  a  mind  to  cor- 
respond with  me,  may  direct  their  letters 
to  the  Spectator,  at  Mr.  Buckley's  in  Lit- 
tle Britain.  For  I  must  further  acquaint 
the  reader,  that  though  our  club  meets 
only  on  Tuesdays  and  Thursdays,  we  have 
appointed  a  committee  to  sit  every  night, 
for  the  inspection  of  all  such  papers  as 
may  contribute  to  the  advancement  of  the 
public  weal. 

THE  SPECTATOR. 

London,  Thursday,  March  1, 1710-11. 


CHAPTER  I. — SIR  ROGER  AND  THE  CLUB.1 

Ast  alii  tax 
Etplure*  uno  conclamant  ore. — Juv. 

THE  first  of  our  Society  is  a  gentleman 
of  Worcestershire,  of  ancient  descent,  a 
baronet,  his  name  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley. 
His  great-grandfather  was  inventor  of 
that  famous  country  dance  which  is  called 
after  him.  All  who  know  that  shire  are 
very  well  acquainted  with  the  parts  and 
merits  of  Sir  Koger.1  He  is  a  gentleman 


rived  from  the  Saxon  cleafan,  to  divide,  "because,"  say§ 
Skinner,  "  the  expenses  are  divided  into  shares  or  por. 
tlons."  Clubs  were  more  general  in  the  days  of  the 
Spectator  than  perhaps  at  any  other  period  of  our  his- 
tory. Throughout  the  previous  half-century  publlo 
discord  had  dissevered  private  society ;  and,  at  the  re- 
storation, men  yearned  for  fellowship ;  but  as,  even  yet, 
political  danger  lurked  under  an  unguarded  expression 
or  a  rash  toast,  companions  could  not  be  too  carefully 
chosen.  Persons  therefore  whose  political  opinions  and 
private  tastes  coincided,  made  a  practice  of  meeting  in 
clubs.  This  principle  of  congeniality  took  all  manner 
of  odd  turns,  but  the  political  clubs  of  the  time  played 
an  important  part  in  history. 

1  This  chapter  is  by  Steele. 

*  The  account  of  the  Spectator  and  each  member  of 
his  club  was  most  likely  fictitious  ;  for  the  Tatler  hav- 
ing been  betrayed  into  personalities,  gave  such  grave 
offence,  that  Steele  determined  not  to  fall  again  into  a 
like  error.  Had  indeed  the  originals  of  Sir  Roger  and 
his  club-companions  existed  among,  as  Budgell  asserts, 
the  "  conspicuous  "  characters  of  the  day,  literary  his- 
tory would  assuredly  have  revealed  them.  But  a  better 
witness  than  Budgell  testifies  to  the  reverse.  The  Spec- 
tator emphatically  disclaims  personality  in  various  pas- 
sages :— In  262  he  says,  "  When  I  place  an  imaginary 
r'  at  the  head  of  a  character,  I  examine  every 
syllable,  every  letter  of  it,  that  it  may  not  bear  any 
resemblance  to  one  that  is  real."  In  another  place,  "  I 
would  not  make  myself  merry  over  a  piece  of  paste- 
board that  is  invest  with  a  public  character." 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


135 


that  is  very  singular  in  his  behaviour,  but 
his  singularities  proceed  from  his  good 
sense,  and  are  contradictions  to  the  man- 
ners of  the  world,  only  as  he  thinks  the 
world  is  in  the  wrong.  However,  this 
humor  creates  him  no  enemies,  for  he 
does  nothing  with  sourness  or  obstinacy ; 
and  his  being  unconfined  to  modes  and 
forms,  makes  him  but  the  readier  and 
more  capable  to  please  and  oblige  all  who 
know  him.  When  he  is  in  town  he  lives 
in  Soho-Square.  It  is  said  he  keeps  him- 
self a  bachelor  by  reason  he  was  crossed 
in  love  by  a  perverse  beautiful  widow  of 
the  next  county  to  him.  Before  this  dis- 
appointment, Sir  Roger  was  what  you  call 
a  fine  gentleman,  had  often  supped  with 
my  Lord  Eochester  and  Sir  George  Ethe- 
rege,  fought  a  duel  upon  his  first  coming 
to  town,  and  kicked  Bully  Dawson 
in  a  public  coffee-house  for  calling 
him  youngster.  But  being  ill  used  by 
the  above-mentioned  widow,  he  was  very 
serious  for  a  year  and  a  half ;  and  though, 
his  temper  being  naturally  jovial,  he  at 
last  got  over  it,  he  grew  careless  of  him- 
self, and  never  dressed  afterwards.  He 
continues  to  wear  a  coat  and  doublet  of 
the  same  cut  that  were  in  fashion  at  the 
time  of  his  repulse,  which,  in  his  merry 
humors,  he  tells  us,  has  been  in  and  out 
twelve  times  since  he  first  wore  it.  He  is 
now  in  his  fifty -sixth  year,  cheerful,  gay, 
and  hearty  ;  keeps  a  good  house  both  in 
town  and  country  ;  a  great  lover  of  man- 
kind ;  but  there  is  such  a  mirthful  cast  in 
his  behaviour,  that  he  is  rather  beloved 
than  esteemed.  His  tenants  grow  rich, 
his  servants  look  satisfied,  all  the  young 
women  profess  love  to  him,  and  the  young 
men  are  glad  of  his  company :  when  he 
comes  into  a  house  he  calls  the  servants 
by  their  names,  and  talks  all  the  way  up 
stairs  to  a  visit.  I  must  not  omit,  that 
Sir  Roger  is  a  Justice  of  the  Quorum ; 
that  he  fills  the  chair  at  a  Quarter-Session 
with  great  abilities,  and  three  months  ago 
gained  universal  applause  by  explaining 
a  passage  in  the  Game  Act. 

The  gentleman  next  in  esteem  and 
authority  among  us,  is  another  bachelor, 
who  is  a  member  of  the  Inner-Temple ;  a 
man  of  great  probity,  wit  and  understand- 
ing; but  he  has  chosen  his  place  of 
residence  rather  to  obey  the  direction  of 
an  old  humorsome  father,  than  in  pursuit 
of  his  own  inclinations.  He  was  placed 
there  to  study  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  is 


the  most  learned  of  any  of  the  House  in 
those  of  the  stage.  Aristotle  and  Lon- 
ginus  are  much  better  understood  by  him 
than  Littleton  or  Coke.  The  father  sends 
up  every  post  questions  relating  to  mar- 
riage articles,  leases  and  tenures  in  the 
neighborhood ;  all  which  questions  he 
agrees  with  an  attorney  to  answer  and  take 
care  of  in  the  lump.  He  is  studying  the 
passions  themselves,  when  he  should  be 
inquiring  into  the  debates  among  men 
which  arise  from  them.  He  knows  the 
argument  of  each  of  the  orations  of  De- 
mosthenes and  Tully,  but  not  one  case  in 
the  reports  of  our  own  courts.  No  one 
ever  took  him  for  a  fool,  but  none,  except 
his  intimate  friends,  know  he  has  a  great 
deal  of  wit.  This  turn  makes  him  at  once 
both  disinterested  and  agreeable :  As  few 
of  his  thoughts  are  drawn  from  business, 
they  are  most  of  them  fit  for  conversation. 
His  taste  of  books  is  a  little  too  just  for 
the  age  he  lives  in ;  he  has  read  all,  but 
approves  of  very  few.  His  familiarity 
with  the  customs,  manners,  actions  and 
writings  of  the  ancients  makes  him  a  very 
delicate  observer  of  what  occurs  to  him  in 
the  present  world.  He  is  an  excellent 
critic,  and  the  time  of  the  play  is  his 
hour  of  business ;  exactly  at  five  he  passes 
through  New-Inn,  crosses  through  Rus- 
sell-Court, and  takes  a  turn  at  Will's  till 
the  play  begins;  he  has  his  shoes  rubbed 
and  his  periwig  powdered  at  the  barber's 
as  you  go  into  the  Rose.  It  is  for  the 
good  of  the  audience  when  he  is  at  a  play, 
for  the  actors  have  an  ambition  to  please 
him. 

The  person  of  next  consideration  is  Sir 
Andrew  Freeport,  a  merchant  of  great 
eminence  in  the  city  of  London.1  A 
person  of  indefatigable  industry,  strong 
reason,  and  great  experience.  His  notions 
of  trade  are  noble  and  generous,  and  (as 
every  rich  man  has  usually  some  sly  way 
of  jesting,  which  would  make  no  great 
figure  were  he  not  a  rich  man)  he  calls 
the  sea  the  British  Common.  He  is 


1  To  Sir  Roger, who  as  a  country  gentleman  appears  to 
be  a  Tory,  or,  as  it  is  generally  expressed,  an  adherent 
to  the  landed  interest,  is  opposed  Sir  Andrew  Freeport, 
a  new  man  and  a  wealthy  merchant,  zealous  for  the 
moneyed  interest,  and  a  Whig.  Of  this  contrariety  ol 
opinions  more  consequences  were  at  first  intended  than 
could  be  produced  when  the  resolution  was  taken  to  ex. 
elude  party  from  the  paper. — Dr.  Johnsons  Life  of  Ad- 
diton. 


136 


SIK  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


acquainted  with  commerce  in  all  its  parts, 
and  will  tell  you  that  it  is  a  stupid  and 
barbarous  way  to  extend  dominion  by 
arms  ;  for  true  power  is  to  be  got  by  arts 
and  industry.  He  will  often  argue,  that 
if  this  part  of  our  trade  were  well  cultiva- 
ted, we  should  gain  from  one  nation ;  and 
if  another,  from  another.  I  have  heard 
him  prove,  that  diligence  makes  more 
lasting  acquisitions  than  valor,  and  that 
sloth  has  ruined  more  nations  than  the 
sword.  He  abounds  in  several  frugal 
maxims,  amongst  which  the  greatest 
favorite  is,  "a  penny  saved  is  a  penny 
got."  A  general  trader  of  good  sense  is 
pleasanter  company  than  a  general  scholar ; 
and  Sir  Andrew  having  a  natural  unaffected 
eloquence,  the  perspicuity  of  his  discourse 
gives  the  same  pleasure  that  wit  would  in 
another  man.  He  has  made  his  fortunes 
himself;  and  says  that  England  may  be 
richer  than  other  kingdoms,  by  as  plain 
methods  as  he  himself  is  richer  than  other 
men ;  though  at  the  same  time  I  can  say 
this  of  him,  that  there  is  not  a  point  in  the 
compass  but  blows  home  a  ship  in  which 
he  is  an  owner. 

Next  to  Sir  Andrew  in  the  club-room 
sits  Captain  Sentry,  a  gentleman  of  great 
courage,  good  understanding,  but  invinci- 
ble modesty.  He  is  one  of  those  that  de- 
serve very  well,  but  are  very  awkward  at 
putting  their  talents  within  the  observa- 
tion of  such  as  should  take  notice  of  them. 
He  was  some  years  a  captain,  and  behaved 
himself  with  great  gallantry  in  several 
engagements  and  at  several  sieges;  but 
having  a  small  estate  of  his  own,  and  be- 
ing next  heir  to  Sir  Roger,  he  has  quitted 
a  way  of  life  in  which  no  man  can  rise 
suitably  to  his  merit,  who  is  not  some- 
thing of  a  courtier  as  well  as  a  soldier.  I 
have  heard  him  often  lament,  that  in  a 
profession  where  merit  is  placed  in  so 
conspicuous  a  view,  impudence  should 
get  the  better  of  modesty.  When  he  has 
talked  to  this  purpose  I  never  heard  him 
make  a  sour  expression,  but  frankly  con- 
fess that  he  left  the  world,  because  he 
was  not  fit  for  it.  A  strict  honesty  and 
an  even  regular  behaviour,  are  in  them- 
selves obstacles  to  him  that  must  press 
through  crowds,  who  endeavor  at  the 
same  end  with  himself,  the  favor  of  a 
commander.  He  will  however  in  his  way 
of  talk  excuse  generals,  for  not  disposing 
according  to  men's  desert,  or  enquiring 
into  it :  for,  says  he,  that  great  man  who 


has  a  mind  to  help  me,  has  as  many  to 
break  through  to  come  at  me,  as  I  have 
to  come  at  him:  Therefore  he  will  con- 
clude, that  the  man  who  would  make  a 
figure,  especially  in  a  military  way,  must 
get  over  all  false  modesty,  and  assist  his 
patron  against  the  importunity  of  other 
pretenders,  by  a  proper  assurance  in  his 
own  vindication.  He  says  it  is  a  civil 
cowardice  to  be  backward  in  asserting 
what  you  ought  to  expect,  as  it  is  a  mili- 
tary fear  to  be  slow  in  attacking  when  it 
is  your  duty.  With  this  candor  does  the 
gentleman  speak  of  himself  and  others. 
The  same  frankness  runs  through  all  his 
conversation.  The  military  part  of  his 
life  has  furnished  him  with  many  adven- 
tures, in  the  relation  of  which  he  is  very 
agreeable  to  the  company ;  for  he  is  never 
overbearing,  though  accustomed  to  com- 
mand men  in  the  utmost  degree  below 
him;  nor  ever  too  obsequious  from  an 
habit  of  obeying  men  highly  above  him. 

But  that  our  society  may  not  appear  a 
set  of  humorists  unacquainted  with  the 
gallantries  and  pleasures  of  the  age,  we 
have  among  us  the  gallant  Will  Honey- 
comb,1 a  gentleman  whp,  according  to  his 
years,  should  be  in  the  decline  of  his  life, 
but  having  ever  been  very  careful  of  his 
person,  and  always  had  a  very  easy  for- 
tune, time  has  made  but  a  very  little  im- 
pression, either  by  wrinkles  on  his  fore- 
head, or  traces  in  his  brain.  His  person 
is  well  turned,  of  a  good  height.  He  is 
very  ready  at  that  sort  of  discourse  with 
which  men  usually  entertain  women.  He 
has  all  his  life  dressed  very  well,  and  re- 
members habits  as  others  do  men.  He 
can  smile  when  one  speaks  to  him,  and 
laughs  easily.  He  knows  the  history  of 


i  The  attentive  reader  of  the  Tatler  will  find  in  it  the 
germ  of  many  of  the  characters  in  the  Spectator — an 
additional  argument  against  their  having  been  drawn 
from  actual  individuals.  The  honorable  Mr.  Thomas 
Gules,  who  indicted  Peter  Plum  in  the  Court  of  Honor 
for  taking  the  wall  of  him  (Tattler,  No.  256),  will  at 
once  be  recognized  as  the  prototype  of  Will  Wimble. 
"  The  prosecutor  alleged  that  he  was  the  cadet  of  a  very 
ancient  family ;  and  that  according  to  the  principles  of 
all  the  younger  brothers  of  the  said  family,  he  had 
never  sullied  himself  with  business;  but  had  chosen 
rather  to  starve  like  a  man  of  honor,  than  do  anything 
beneath  his  quality.  He  produced  several  witnesses 
that  he  had  never  employed  himself  beyond  the  twist- 
ing of  a  whip,  or  the  making  of  a  pair  of  nut-crackers 
in  which  he  only  worked  for  his  diversion,  in  order  to 
make  a  present  now  and  then  to  his  friends." 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


137 


«very  mode,  and  can  inform  you  from 
which  of  the  French  king's  wenches  our 
wives  and  daughters  had  this  manner  of 
curling  their  hair,  that  way  of  placing 
their  hoods;  whose  frailty  was  covered 
by  such  a  sort  of  petticoat,  and  whose 
vanity  to  show  her  foot  made  that  part  of 
the  dress  so  short  in  such  a  year.  In  a 
word,  all  his  conversation  and  knowledge 
have  been  in  the  female  world :  as  other 
men  of  his  age  will  take  notice  to  you 
what  such  a  minister  said  upon  such  and 
such  an  occasion,  he  will  tell  you  when 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  danced  at  court, 
such  a  woman  was  then  smitten,  another 
was  taken  with  him  at  the  head  of  his 
troop  in  the  park.  In  all  these  impor- 
tant relations,  he  has  ever  about  the  same 
time  received  a  kind  glance  or  the  blow 
of  a  fan  from  some  celebrated  beauty, 
mother  of  the  present  lord  such-a-one.  If 
you  speak  of  a  young  commoner  that  said 
a  lively  thing  in  the  house,  he  starts  up, 
"He  has  good  blood  in  his  veins,  Tom 
Mirabell,  the  rogue,  cheated  me  in  that 
affair:  that  young  fellow's  mother  used 
me  more  like  a  dog  than  any  woman  I 
ever  made  advances  to."  This  way  of 
talking  of  his  very  much  enlivens  the 
conversation  among  us  of  a  more  sedate 
turn ;  and  I  find  there  is  not  one  of  the 
company,  but  myself,  who  rarely  speak  at 
all,  but  speaks  of  him  as  of  that  sort  of 
man  who  is  usually  called  a  well-bred 
fine  gentleman.  To  conclude  his  char- 
acter, where  women  are  not  concerned, 
he  is  an  honest  worthy  man. 

I  cannot  tell  whether  I  am  to  account 
him  whom  I  am  next  to  speak  of,  as  one 
of  our  company;  for  he  visits  us  but 
seldom,  but  when  he  does  it  adds  to  every 
man  else  a  new  enjoyment  of  himself.  He 
is  a  clergyman,  a  very  philosophic  man,  of 
gep^ra1  learning,  great  sanctity  of  life,  and 
vkw  most  exact  gooa  oreeding.  He  has  the 
misfortune  to  be  of  a  very  weak  constitu- 
tion, and  consequently  cannot  accept  of 
such  cares  and  business  as  preferments  in 
his  function  would  oblige  him  to :  He  is 
therefore  among  divines  what  a  chamber- 
counsellor  is  among  lawyers.  The  probity 
of  his  mind,  and  the  integrity  of  his  life, 
create  him  followers,  as  being  eloquent  or 
loud  advances  others.  He  seldom  in- 
troduces the  subject  he  speaks  upon ;  but 
we  are  so  far  gone  in  years,  that  he  observes 
when  he  is  among  us,  an  earnestness  to 
have  him  fall  on  some  divine  topic,  which 


he  always  treats  with  much  authority,  as 
one  who  has  no  interests  in  this  world,  as 
one  who  is  hastening  to  the  object  of  all 
his  wishes,  and  conceives  hope  from  his 
decays  and  infirmities.  These  are  my 
ordinary  companions. 


CHAPTER  II. — COVERLEY  HALL. 

Hinc  libi  copia 
Manabit  ad  plenum,  benigno 
Burit  honorum  opulenta  cornu. — HOB. 

HAVING  often  received  an  invitation 
from  my  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  to 
pass  away  a  month  with  him  in  the  coun- 
try, I  last  week  accompanied  him  thither, 
and  am  settled  with  him  for  some  time  at 
his  country-house,  where  I  intend  to  form 
several  of  my  ensuing  speculations.  Sir 
Roger,  who  is  well  acquainted  with  my 
humor,  lets  me  rise  and  go  to  bed  when  I 
please,  dine  at  his  own  table  or  in  my 
chamber  as  I  think  fit,  sit  still  and  say 
nothing  without  bidding  me  be  merry. 
When  the  gentlemen  of  the  county  come 
to  see  him,  he  only  shows  me  at  a  dis- 
tance :  as  I  have  been  walking  in  his 
fields  I  have  observed  them  stealing  a 
sight  of  me  over  an  hedge,  and  have 
heard  the  knight  desiring  them  not  to  let 
me  see  them,  for  that  I  hated  to  be  stared 
at. 

I  am  the  more  at  ease  in  Sir  Roger's 
family,  because  it  consists  of  sober  and 
staid  persons ;  for  as  the  knight  is  the 
best  master  in  the  world,  he  seldom 
changes  his  servants;  and  as  he  is  be- 
loved by  all  about  him,  his  servants  never 
care  for  leaving  him  ;  by  this  means  hia 
domestics  are  all  in  years,  and  grown  old 
with  their  master.  You  would  take  his 
valet  de  chambre  for  his  brother,  his 
butler  is  greyheaded,  his  groom  is  one  of 
the  gravest  men  that  I  have  ever  sees 
and  his  coachman  has  the  looks  oC 
privy-counsellor.  You  see  the  goddneSw 
of  the  master  even  in  the  old  house-dog, 
and  in  a  gray  pad  that  is  kept  in  the 
stable  with  great  care  and  tenderness  out 
of  regard  to  his  past  services,  though  he 
has  been  useless  for  several  years. 

I  could  not  but  observe  with  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  the  joy  that  appeared  in 
the  countenances  of  these  ancient  do- 
mestics upon  my  friend's  arrival  at  his 
country  seat.  Some  of  them  could  not 
refrain  from  tears  at  the  sight  of  their  old 


138 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


master;  every  one  o£  them  pressed  for- 
ward to  do  something  for  him,  and  seemed 
discouraged  if  they  were  not  employed. 
At  the  same  time  the  old  Knight,  with  a 
mixture  of  the  father  and  the  master  of 
the  family,  tempered  the  inquiries  after 
his  own  affairs  with  several  kind  questions 
relating  to  themselves.  This  humanity 
and  good-nature  engages  every  body  to 
him,  so  that  when  he  is  pleasant  upon  any 
of  them,  all  his  family  are  in  good  humor, 
and  none  so  much  as  the  person  whom  he 
diverts  himself  with  :  On  the  contrary,  if 
he  coughs,  or  betrays  any  infirmity  of  old 
age,  it  is  easy  for  a  standerby  to  observe 
a  secret  concern  in  the  looks  of  all  his 
servants. 

My  worthy  friend  has  put  me  under  the 
particular  care  of  his  butler,  who  is  a  very 
prudent  man,  and,  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
his  fellow-servants,  wonderfully  desirous 
of  pleasing  me,  because  they  have  often 
heard  their  master  talk  of  me  as  of  his 
particular  friend. 

My  chief  companion,  when  Sir  Roger 
is  diverting  himself  in  the  woods  or  the 
fields,  is  a  very  venerable  man  who  is  ever 
with  Sir  Roger,  and  has  lived  at  his  house 
in  the  nature  of  a  chaplain  above  thirty 
years.  This  gentleman  is  a  person  of 
good  sense  and  some  learning,  of  a  very 
regular  life  and  obliging  conversation : 
He  heartily  loves  Sir  Roger,  and  knows 
that  he  is  very  much  in  the  old  Knight's 
esteem,  so  that  he  lives  in  the  family 
rather  as  a  relation  than  a  dependent. 

I  have  observed  in  several  of  my  papers 
that  my  friend  Sir  Roger,  amidst  all  his 
good  qualities,  is  something  of  an  humor- 
ist ;  and  that  his  virtues,  as  well  as  im- 
perfections, are  as  it  were  tinged  by  a 
certain  extravagance,  which  makes  them 
particularly  his,  and  distinguishes  them 
from  those  of  other  men.  This  cast  of 
mind,  as  it  is  generally  very  innocent  in 
itself,  so  it  renders  his  conversation  highly 
agreeable,  and  more  delightful  than  the 
same  degree  of  sense  and  virtue  would 
appear  in  their  common  and  ordinary 
colors.  As  I  was  walking  with  him  last 
night,  he  asked  me  how  I  liked  the  good 
man  whom  I  have  just  now  mentioned  ? 
and  without  staying  for  my  answer  told 
me,  That  he  was  afraid  of  being  insulted 
with  Latin  and  Greek  at  his  own  table ; 
for  which  reason  he  desired  a  particular 
friend  of  his  at  the  university  to  find  him 
out  a  clergyman  rather  o*  ''lain  sense  than 


much  learning,  of  a  good  aspect,  a  clear 
voice,  a  sociable  temper ;  and,  if  possible 
a  man  that  understood  a  little  of  back 
gammon.  My  friend,  says  Sir  Roger, 
found  me  out  this  gentleman,  who,  besides 
the  endowments  required  of  him,  is,  they 
tell  me,  a  good  scholar,  though  he  does 
not  show  it :  I  have  given  him  the  par- 
sonage of  the  parish ;  and  because  I  know 
his  value,  have  settled  upon  him  a  good 
annuity  for  life.  If  he  outlives  me,  he 
shall  find  that  he  was  higher  in  my  esteem 
than  perhaps  he  thinks  he  is.  He  has 
now  been  with  me  thirty  years;  and 
though  he  does  not  know  I  have  taken 
notice  of  it,  has  never  in  all  that  time 
asked  any  thing  of  me  for  himself,  though 
he  is  every  day  soliciting  me  for  some- 
thing in  behalf  of  one  or  other  of  my 
tenants  his  parishioners.  There  has  not 
been  a  law-suit  in  the  parish  since  he  has 
lived  among  them :  if  any  dispute  arises, 
they  apply  themselves  to  him  for  the  de- 
cision ;  if  they  do  not  acquiesce  in  his 
judgment,  which  I  think  never  happened 
above  once  or  twice  at  most,  they  appeal 
to  me.  At  his  first  settling  with  me,  I 
made  him  a  present  of  all  the  good  ser- 
mons which  have  been  printed  in  English, 
and  only  begged  of  him  that  every  Sun- 
day he  would  pronounce  one  of  them  in 
the  pulpit.  Accordingly  he  has  digested 
them  into  such  a  series,  that  they  follow 
one  another  naturally,  and  make  a  con- 
tinued system  of  practical  divinity. 

As  Sir  Roger  was  going  on  in  his  story, 
the  gentleman  we  were  talking  of  came  up 
to  us ;  and  upon  the  Knight's  asking  him 
who  preached  to-morrow  (for  it  was  Satur- 
day night)  told  us,  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph 
in  the  morning,  and  Dr.  South  in  the 
afternoon.  He  then  showed  us  his  list  of 
preachers  for  the  whole  year,  where  I  saw 
with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  Archbishop 
Tillotson,  Bishop  Sanderson,  Dr.  Barrow, 
Dr.  Calamy,  with  several  living  authors 
who  have  published  discourses  of  practical 
divinity.  I  no  sooner  saw  this  venerable 
man  in  the  pulpit,  but  I  very  much  ap- 
proved of  my  friend's  insisting  upon  the 
qualifications  of  a  good  aspect  and  a  clear 
voice ;  for  I  was  so  charmed  with  the 
gracefulness  of  his  figure  and  delivery,  as 
well  as  with  the  discourses  he  pronounced, 
that  I  think  I  never  passed  any  time  more 
to  my  satisfaction.  A  sermon  repeated 
after  this  manner,  is  like  the  composition 
of  a  poet  in  the  mouth  of  a  graceful  actae. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


139 


I  could  heartily  wish  that  more  of  our 
country  clergy  would  follow  this  example ; 
and  instead  of  wasting  their  spirits  in 
laborious  compositions  of  their  own, 
would  endeavor  after  a  handsome  elocu- 
tion, and  all  those  other  talents  that  are 
proper,  to  enforce  what  has  been  penned 
by  greater  masters.  This  would  not  only 
be  more  easy  to  themselves,  but  more 
edifying  to  the  people. 


CHAPTER    III.— THE    COVERLEY    HOUSE- 
HOLD.1 

JEsopo  ingtntem  ttatuam  posuere  Attiti, 
Serrumque  colloeftrunt  sterna  in  boo', 
Patere  honori*  icirent  ut  cunctit  viam. — PH^IDR. 

THE  reception,  manner  of  attendance, 
undisturbed  freedom  and  quiet,  which  I 
meet  with  here  in  the  country,  has  con- 
firmed me  in  the  opinion  I  always  had, 
that  the  general  corruption  of  manners  in 
servants  is  owing  to  the  conduct  of  masters. 
The  aspect  of  every  one  in  the  family 
carries  so  much  satisfaction,  that  it  appears 
he  knows  the  happy  lot  which  has  befallen 
him  in  being  a  member  of  it.  There  is 
one  particular  which  I  have  seldom  seen 
but  at  Sir  Roger's ;  it  is  usual  in  all  other 
places,  that  servants  fly  from  the  parts  of 
the  house  through  which  their  master  is 
passing:  on  the  contrary,  here  they  in- 
dustriously place  themselves  in  his  way ; 
and  it  is  on  both  sides,  as  it  were,  under- 
stood as  a  visit,  when  the  servants  appear 
without  calling.  This  proceeds  from  the 
human  and  equal  temper  of  the  man  of 
the  house,  who  also  perfectly  well  knows 
how  to  enjoy  a  great  estate,  with  such 
economy  as  ever  to  be  much  beforehand. 
This  makes  his  own  mind  untroubled,  and 
consequently  unapt  to  vent  peevish  ex- 
pressions, or  give  passionate  or  inconsis- 
tent orders  to  those  about  him.  Thus  re- 
spect and  love  go  together ;  and  a  certain 
cheerfulness  in  performance  of  their  duty 
is  the  particular  distinction  of  the  lower 
part  of  this  family.  When  a  servant  is 
called  before  his  master,  he  does  not  come 
with  an  expectation  to  hear  himself  rated 
for  some  trivial  fault,  threatened  to  be 
stripped  or  used  with  any  other  unbecom- 
ing language,  which  mean  masters  often 
give  to  worthy  servants  ;  but  it  is  often  to 
know,  what  road  he  took  that  he  came  so 


»  By  Steel*. 


readily  back  according  to  order ;  whether 
he  passed  by  such  a  ground,  if  the  old 
man  who  rents  it  is  in  good  health ;  or 
whether  he  gave  Sir  Roger's  love  to  him, 
or  the  like. 

A  man  who  preserves  a  respect,  found- 
ed on  his  benevolence  to  his  dependents, 
lives  rather  like  a  prince  than  a  master  in 
his  family;  his  orders  are  received  as 
favors,  rather  than  duties;  and  the  dis- 
tinction of  approaching  him  is  part  of  the 
reward  for  executing  what  is  commanded 
by  him. 

There  is  another  circumstance  in  which 
my  friend  excels  in  his  management, 
which  is  the  manner  of  rewarding  his 
servants :  he  has  ever  been  of  opinion, 
that  giving  his  cast  clothes  to  be  worn  by 
valets  has  a  very  ill  effect  upon  little 
minds,  and  creates  a  silly  sense  of  equality 
between  the  parties,  in  persons  affected 
only  with  outward  things.  I  have 
heard  him  often  pleasant  on  this  occasion, 
and  describe  a  young  gentleman  abusing 
his  man  in  that  coat,  which  a  month  or 
two  before  was  the  most  pleasing  distinc- 
tion he  was  conscious  of  in  himself.  He 
would  turn  his  discourse  still  more  plea- 
santly upon  the  ladies'  bounties  of  this 
kind ;  and  I  have  heard  him  say  he  knew 
a  fine  woman,  who  distributed  rewards 
and  punishments  in  giving  becoming  or 
unbecoming  dresses  to  her  maids. 

But  my  good  friend  is  above  these  little 
instances  of  good-will,  in  bestowing  only 
trifles  on  his  servants ;  a  good  servant  to 
him  is  sure  of  having  it  in  his  choice  very 
soon  of  being  no  servant  at  all.  As  I  be- 
fore observed,  he  is  so  good  an  husband, 
and  knows  so  thoroughly  that  the  skill  of 
the  purse  is  the  cardinal  virtue  of  this 
life  ;  I  say,  he  knows  so  well  that  frugal- 
ity is  the  support  of  generosity,  that  he 
can  often  spare  a  large  fine,  when  a  tene- 
ment falls,  and  give  the  settlement  to  a 
good  servant  who  has  a  mind  to  go  into 
the  world,  or  make  a  stranger  pay  the 
fine  to  that  servant,  for  his  more  comfort- 
able maintenance,  if  he  stays  in  his  ser- 
vice. 

A  man  of  honor  and  generosity  con- 
siders it  would  be  miserable  to  himself 
to  have  no  will  but  that  of  another, 
though  it  were  of  the  best  person  breath- 
ing, and  for  that  reason  goes  on  aa  fast  as 
he  is  able  to  put  his  servants  into  inde- 

gendent  livelihoods.  The  greatest  part  of 
ir  Roger's  estate  is  tenanted  by  persons 


140 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


who  have  served  himself  or  his  ancestors. 
It  was  to  me  extremely  pleasant  to  ob- 
serve the  visitants  from  several  parts  to 
welcome  his  arrival  into  the  country ;  and 
all  the  diiference  that  I  could  take  notice 
of  between  the  late  servants  who  came  to 
see  him,  and  those  who  staid  in  the 
family,  was  that  these  latter  were  looked 
upon  as  finer  gentlemen  and  better  cour- 
tiers. 

This  manumission  and  placing  them  in 
a  way  of  livelihood  I  look  upon  as  only 
what  is  due  to  a  good  servant,  which  en- 
couragement will  make  his  successor  be 
as  diligent,  as  humble,  and  as  ready  as  he 
was.  There  is  something  wonderful  in 
the  narrowness  of  those  minds,  which  can 
be  pleased,  and  be  barren  of  bounty  to 
those  who  please  them. 

One  might,  on  this  occasion,  recount 
the  sense  that  great  persons  in  all  ages 
have  had  of  the  merit  of  their  dependents, 
and  the  heroic  services  which  men  have 
done  their  masters  in  the  extremity  of 
their  fortunes ;  and  shown  to  their  un- 
done patrons,  that  fortune  was  all  the 
difference  between  them  ;  but  as  I  design 
this  my  speculation  only  as  a  gentle  ad- 
monition to  thankless  masters,  I  shall  not 
go  out  of  the  occurrences  of  common  life, 
but  assert  it  as  a  general  observation,  that 
I  never  saw  but  in  Sir  Roger's  family, 
and  one  or  two  more,  good  servants  treat- 
ed as  they  ought  to  be.  Sir  Roger's  kind- 
ness extends  to  their  children's  children, 
and  this  very  morning  he  sent  his  coach- 
man's grandson  to  prentice.  I  shall  con- 
clude this  paper  with  an  account  of  a  pic- 
ture in  his  gallery,  where  there  are  many 
which  will  deserve  my  future  observation. 

At  the  very  upper  end  of  this  hand- 
some structure  I  saw  the  portraiture  of 
two  young  men  standing  in  a  river,  the 
one  naked,  the  other  in  a  livery.  The 
person  supported  seemed  half  dead,  but 
still  so  much  alive  as  to  show  in  his  face 
exquisite  joy  and  love  towards  the  other. 
I  thought  the  fainting  figure  resembled 
my  friend  Sir  Roger,  and  looking  at  the 
butler,  who  stood  by  me,  for  an  account 
of  it,  be  informed  me  that  the  person  in 
the  livery  was  a  servant  of  Sir  Roger's, 
who  stood  on  the  shore  while  his  master 
was  swimming,  and  observing  him  taken 
with  some  sudden  illness,  and  sink  under 
water,  jumped  in  and  saved  him.  He  told 
me  Sir  Rojrer  took  off  the  drcsa  he  was  in 
as  soon  as  he  came  home,  and  by  a  great 


bounty  at  that  time,  followed  by  his  favor 
ever  since,  had  made  him  master  of  that 
pretty  seat  which  we  saw  at  a  distance  as 
we  came  to  this  house.  I  remembered 
indeed  Sir  Roger  said  there  lived  a  very 
worthy  gentleman,  to  whom  he  was  high- 
ly obliged,  without  mentioning  anything 
further.  Upon  my  looking  a  little  dis- 
satisfied at  some  part  of  the  picture,  my 
attendant  told  me  that  it  was  against  Sir 
Roger's  will,  and  at  the  earnest  request  of 
the  gentleman  himself,  that  he  was  drawn 
in  the  habit  in  which  he  had  saved  his 
master. 


CHAPTER  IV. — THE  COVERLEY  GUEST. 
Gratis  anhelans,  multa  agendo  nihil  agens. — PH.SDB. 

As  I  was  yesterday  morning  walking 
with  Sir  Roger  before  his  house,  a  country- 
fellow  brought  him  a  huge  fish,  which,  he 
told  him,  Mr.  William  Wimble  had 
caught  that  very  morning ;  and  that  he 
presented  it,  with  his  service  to  him,  and 
intended  to  come  and  dine  with  him.  At 
the  same  time  he  delivered  a  letter,  which 
my  friend  read  to  me  as  soon  as  the  mes- 
senger left  him. 

"  SIR  ROGER, 

"  I  desire  you  to  accept  of  a  jack,  which  is 
the  best  I  have  caught  this  season.  I  in- 
tend to  come  and  stay  with  you  a  week, 
and  see  how  the  perch  bite  in  the  Black 
river.  I  observed  with  some  concern,  the 
last  time  I  saw  you  upon  the  Bowling- 
Green,  that  your  whip  wanted  a  lash  to  it ; 
I  will  bring  half  a  dozen  with  me  that 
I  twisted  last  week,  which  I  hope  will 
serve  you  all  the  time  you  are  in  the 
country.  I  have  not  been  out  of  the 
saddle  for  six  days  last  past,  having  been 
at  Eaton  with  Sir  John's  eldest  son.  He 
takes  to  learning  hugely.  I  am, 
"  Sir,  your  humble  Servant, 

"WILL  WIMBLE." 

This  extraordinary  letter,  and  message 
that  accompanied  it,  made  me  very  curi- 
ous to  know  the  character  and  quality  of 
the  gentleman  who  sent  them ;  which  I 
found  to  be  as  follows.  Will  Wimble  is 
younger  brother  to  a  baronet,  and  de- 
scended of  the  ancient  family  of  the 
Wimbles.  He  ia  now  between  forty  and 
fifty ;  but  being  bred  to  no  business  and 
born  to  no  estate,  he  generally  lives  with 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


141 


his  elder  brother  as  superintendent  of  his 
game.  He  hunts  a  pack  of  dogs  better 
than  any  man  in  the  country,  and  is  very 
famous  for  finding  out  a  hare.  He  is  ex- 
tremely well  versed  in  all  the  little  handi- 
crafts of  an  idle  man :  He  makes  a  May- 
fly to  a  miracle  ;  and  furnishes  the  whole 
country  with  angle-rods.  As  he  is  a  good- 
natured  officious  fellow,  and  very  much 
esteemed  upon  account  of  his  family,  he 
is  a  welcome  guest  at  every  house,  and 
keeps  up  a  good  correspondence  among 
all  the  gentlemen  about  him.  He  carries 
a  tulip-root  in  his  pocket  from  one  to  an- 
other, or  exchanges  a  puppy  between  a 
couple  of  friends  that  live  perhaps  in  the 
opposite  sides  of  the  country.  Will  is  a 
particular  favorite  of  all  the  young  heirs, 
whom  he  frequently  obliges  with  a  net 
that  he  has  weaved,  or  a  setting-dog  that 
he  has  made  himself.  He  now  and  then 
presents  a  pair  of  garters  of  his  own  knit- 
ting to  their  mothers  or  sisters ;  and  raises 
a  great  deal  of  mirth  among  them,  by  in- 
quiring as  often  as  he  meets  them  how 
they  wear  ?  These  gentleman-like  manu- 
factures and  obliging  little  humors  make 
Will  the  darling  of  the  country. 

Sir  Roger  was  proceeding  in  the  char- 
acter of  him,  when  we  saw  him  make  up 
to  us  with  two  or  three  hazle-twigs  in  his 
hand  that  he  had  cut  in  Sir  Roger's  woods, 
as  he  came  through  them,  in  his  way  to 
the  house.  I  was  very  much  pleased  to 
observe  on  one  side  the  hearty  and  sin- 
cere welcome  with  which  Sir  Roger  re- 
ceived him,  and  on  the  other,  the  secret 
joy  which  his  guest  discovered  at  sight  of 
the  good  old  knight.  After  the  first  sa- 
lutes were  over,  Will  desired  Sir  Roger  to 
lend  him  one  of  his  servants  to  carry  a 
set  of  shuttlecocks  he  had  with  him  in  a 
little  box  to  a  lady  that  lived  about  a 
mile  off,  to  whom  it  seems  he  had  prom- 
ised such  a  present  for  above  this  half 
year.  Sir  Roger's  back  was  no  sooner 
turned  but  honest  Will  began  to  tell  me 
of  a  large  cock-pheasant  that  he  had 
sprung  in  one  of  the  neighboring  woods, 
with  two  or  three  other  adventures  of  the 
same  nature.  Odd  and  uncommon  char- 
acters are  the  game  that  I  look  for,  and 
most  delight  in ;  for  which  reason  I  was 
as  much  pleased  with  the  novelty  of  the 
person  that  talked  to  me,  as  he  could  be 
for  his  life  with  the  springing  of  a  pheas- 
ant, and  therefore  listened  to  him  with 
more  than  ordinary  attention. 


In  the  midst  of  his  discourse  the  bell 
rung  to  dinner,  where  the  gentleman  I 
have  been  speaking  of  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  the  huge  Jack,  he  had  caught, 
served  up  for  the  first  dish  in  a  most 
sumptuous  manner.  Upon  our  sitting 
down  to  it  he  gave  us  a  long  account 
how  he  had  hooked  it,  played  with  it, 
foiled  i*.  and  at  length  drew  it  out  upon 
the  ba  ak,  with  several  other  particulars 
that  lasted  all  the  first  course.  A  dish  of 
wild-fowl  that  came  afterwards  furnished 
conversation  for  the  rest  of  the  dinner, 
which  concluded  with  a  late  invention  of 
Will's  for  improving  the  quail-pipe. 

Upon  withdrawing  into  my  room  after 
dinner,  I  was  secretly  touched  with  com- 
passion towards  the  honest  gentleman  that 
had  dined  with  us ;  and  could  not  but 
consider  with  a  great  deal  of  concern,  how 
so  good  an  heart  and  such  busy  handa 
were  wholly  employed  in  trifles ;  that  so 
much  humanity  should  be  so  little  bene- 
ficial to  others,  and  so  much  industry  so 
little  advantageous  to  himself.  The  same 
temper  of  mind  and  application  to  affairs 
might  have  recommended  him  to  the  pub- 
lic esteem,  and  have  raised  his  fortune  in 
another  station  of  life.  What  good  to  his 
country  or  himself  might  not  a  trader  or 
a  merchant  have  done  with  such  useful 
though  ordinary  qualifications  ? 

Will  Wimble's  is  the  case  of  many  a 
younger  brother  of  a  great  family,  who 
had  rather  see  their  children  starve  like 
gentlemen,  than  thrive  in  a  trade  or  pr«- 
fession  that  is  beneath  their  quality. 
This  humor  fills  several  parts  of  Europe 
with  pride  and  beggary.  It  is  the  happi- 
ness of  a  trading  nation,  like  ours,  that 
the  younger  sons,  though  uncapable  of 
any  liberal  art  or  profession,  may  be 
placed  in  such  a  way  of  life,  as  may  per- 
haps enable  them  to  vie  with  the  best  of 
their  family :  Accordingly  we  find  several 
citizens  that  were  launched  into  the  world 
with  narrow  fortunes,  rising  by  an  honest 
industry  to  greater  estates  than  those  of 
their  elder  brothers.  It  is  not  improbable 
but  Will  was  formerly  tried  at  divinity, 
law,  or  physic ;  and  that  finding  his  genius 
did  not  lie  that  way,  his  parents  gave  him 
up  at  length  to  his  own  inventions.  But 
certainly,  however  improper  he  might 
have  been  for  studies  of  a  higher  nature, 
he  was  perfectly  well  turned  for  the  occu- 
pations of  trade  and  commerce. 


142 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


CHAPTER  V.— THE  COVERLEY  LINEAGE.1 


Abnormii  sapient  • 


HOK. 


I  WAS  this  morning  walking  in  the 
gallery,  when  Sir  Roger  entered  at  the 
end  opposite  to  ine,  andadvancing  towards 
me,  said  he  was  glad  to  meet  me  among 
his  relations  the  De  Coverleys,  and  hoped 
I  liked  the  conversation  of  so  much  good 
company,  who  were  as  silent  as  myself.  I 
knew  he  alluded  to  the  pictures,  and  as  he 
is  a  gentleman  who  does  not  a  little  value 
himself  upon  his  ancient  descent,  I  ex- 
pected he  would  give  me  some  account  of 
them.  We  are  now  arrived  at  the  upper- 
end  of  the  gallery,  when  the  Knight  faced 
towards  one  of  the  pictures,  and  as  we 
stood  before  it,  he  entered  into  the  matter, 
after  his  blunt  way  of  saying  things,  as 
they  occur  to  his  imagination,  without 
regular  introduction,  or  care  to  preserve 
the  appearance  of  chain  of  thought. 

"  It  is,"  said  he,  "  worth  while  to  con- 
sider the  force  of  dress ;  and  how  the  per- 
sons of  one  age  differ  from  those  of  another, 
merely  by  that  only.  One  may  observe 
also,  that  the  general  fashion  of  one  age 
has  been  followed  by  one  particular  set  of 
people  in  another,  and  by  them  preserved 
from  one  generation  to  another.  Thus 
the  vast  jetting  coat  and  small  bonnet, 
which  was  the  habit  in  Harry  the 
Seventh's  time,  is  kept  on  in  the  yeomen 
of  the  guard ;  not  without  a  good  and 
politic  view,  because  they  look  a  foot  taller, 
and  a  foot  and  a  half  broader:  besides 
that  the  cap  leaves  the  face  expanded, 
and  consequently  more  terrible,  and  fitter 
to  stand  at  the  entrance  of  palaces. 

"  This  predecessor  of  ours,  you  see,  is 
dressed  after  this  manner,  and  his  cheeks 
would  be  no  larger  than  mine,  were  he 
in  a  hat  as  I  am.  He  was  the  last  man 
that  won  a  prize  in  the  Tilt-yard  (which 
is  now  a  common  street  before  Whitehall). 
You  see  the  broken  lance  that  lies  there 
by  his  right  foot ;  he  shivered  that  lance 
of  his  adversary  all  to  pieces;  and  bearing 
himself,  look  you,  Sir,  in  this  manner,  at 
the  same  time  he  came  within  the  target 
ofthe  gentleman  who  rode  against  him, 
and  taking  him  with  incredible  force  be- 
fore him  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  he 
in  that  manner  rid  the  tournament  over, 
with  an  air  that  shewed  he  did  it  rather 


1  By  Steels. 


to  perform  the  rule  of  the  lists,  than  ex- 
pose his  enemy  ;  however,  it  appeared  he 
knew  how  to  make  use  of  a  victory,  and 
with  a  gentle  trot  he  marched  up  to  a 
gallery  where  their  mistress  sat  (for  they 
were  rivals),  and  let  him  down  with  laud- 
able courtesy  and  pardonable  insolence.  I 
don't  know  but  it  might  be  exactly  where 
the  coffee-house  is  now. 

"You  are  to  know  this  my  ancestor 
was  not  only  of  a  military  genius,  but  fit 
also  for  the  arts  of  peace,  for  he  played 
on  the  bass-viol  as  well  as  any  gentleman 
at  court;  you  see  where  his  viol  hangs  by 
his  basket-hilt  sword.  The  action  at  the 
tilt-yard  you  may  be  sure  won  the  fair 
lady,  who  was  a  maid  of  honor,  and  the 
greatest  beauty  of  her  time;  here  she 
stands  the  next  picture.  You  see,  Sir, 
my  great  great  great  grandmother  has  on 
the  new-fashioned  petticoat,  except  that 
the  modern  is  gathered  at  the  waist ;  my 
grandmother  appears  as  if  she  stood  in  a 
large  drum,  whereas  the  ladies  now  walk 
as  if  they  were  in  a  go-cart.1  For  all  this 
lady  was  bred  at  court,  she  became  an 
excellent  country-wife,  she  brought  ten 
children,  and  when  I  show  you  the  li- 
brary, you  shall  see  in  her  own  hand, 
(allowing  for  the  difference  of  the  lan- 
guage) the  best  receipt  now  in  England 
both  for  an  hasty-pudding  and  a  white- 
pot. 

"  If  you  please  to  walk  back  a  little, 
because  'tis  necessary  to  look  at  the  three 
next  pictures  at  one  view ;  these  are  three 
sisters.  She  on  the  right  hand,  who  is  so 
very  beautiful,  died  a  maid :  the  next  to 
her,  still  handsomer,  had  the  same  fate, 
against  her  will ;  this  homely  thing  in  the 
middle  had  both  their  portions  added  to 
her  own,  and  was  stolen  by  a  neighboring 
gentleman,  a  man  of  stratagem  and  reso- 
lution, for  he  poisoned  three  mastiffs  to 
come  at  her,  and  knocked  down  two  deer- 
stealers  in  carrying  her  off.  Misfortunes 
happen  in  all  families :  the  theft  of  this 
romp  and  so  much  money,  was  no  great 
matter  to  our  estate.  But  the  next  heir 
that  possessed  it  was  this  soft  gentleman, 
whom  you  see  there :  Observe  the  small 
buttons,  the  little  boots,  the  laces,  the 
slashes  about  his  clothes,  and  above  all 
the  posture  he  is  drawn  in  (which  to  be 


1  The  hooped  petticoat  was  revived,  not  long  before 
the  date  of  this  paper,  by  a  mantua-maker  named  Selby. 
Agaiiijt  it  keen  war  was  waged  in  th*  -Spectator 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


143 


sure  was  his  own  choosing) ;  you  see  he 
sits  with  one  hand  on  a  desk  writing  and 
looking  as  it  were  another  way,  like  an 
easy  writer,  or  a  sonnetteer:  he  was  one 
of  those  that  had  too  much  wit  to  know 
how  to  live  in  the  world ;  he  was  a  man 
of  no  justice,  but  great  good  manners ;  he 
ruined  everybody  that  had  anything  to 
do  with  him,  but  never  said  a  rude  thing 
in  his  life ;  the  most  indolent  person  in 
the  world,  he  would  sign  a  deed  athat 
passed  away  half  his  estate  with  his 

f  loves  on,  but  would  not  put  on  his  hat 
efore  a  lady  if  it  were  to  save  his 
country.  He  is  said  to  be  the  first  that 
made  love  by  squeezing  the  hand.  He 
left  the  estate  with  ten  thousand  pounds 
of  debt  upon  it :  but  however  by  all  hands 
I  have  been  informed  that  he  was  every 
way  the  finest  gentleman  in  the  world. 
That  debt  lay  heavy  on  our  house  for  one 
generation,  but  it  was  retrieved  by  a  gift 
from  that  honest  man  you  see  there,  a 
citizen  of  our  name,  but  nothing  at  all 
akin  to  us.  I  know  Sir  Andrew  Freeport 
has  said  behind  my  back,  that  this  man 
was  descended  from  one  of  the  ten  chil- 
dren of  the  maid  of  honor  I  showed  you 
above ;  but  it  was  never  made  out.  We 
winked  at  the  thing  indeed,  because 
money  was  wanting  at  that  time." 

Here  I  saw  my  friend  a  little  embar- 
rassed, and  turned  my  face  to  the  next 
portraiture. 

Sir  Koger  went  on  with  his  account  of 
the  gallery  in  the  following  manner. 
"This  man"  (pointing  to  him  I  looked 
at),  "  I  take  to  be  the  honor  of  our  house, 
Sir  Humphrey  de  Coverley ;  he  was  in  his 
dealings  as  punctual  as  a  tradesman,  and 
as  generous  as  a  gentleman.  He  would 
have  thought  himself  as  much  undone  by 
breaking  his  word,  as  if  it  were  to  be 
followed  by  bankruptcy.  He  served  his 
country  as  knight  of  this  shire  to  his 
dying  day.  He  found  it  no  easy  matter 
to  maintain  an  integrity  in  his  words  and 
actions,  even  in  things  that  regarded  the 
offices  which  are  incumbent  upon  him,  in 
the  care  of  his  own  affairs  and  relations 
of  life,  and  therefore  dreaded  (though  he 
had  great  talents)  to  go  into  employments 
of  state,  where  he  must  be  exposed  to  the 
snares  of  ambition.  Innocence  of  life 
and  great  ability  were  the  distinguishing 
parts  of  his  character ;  the  latter,  he  had 
often  observed,  had  led  to  the  destruction 
of  the  former,  and  used  frequently  to 


lament  that  great  and  good  had  not  the 
same  signification.  He  was  an  excellent 
husbandman,  but  had  resolved  not  to 
exceed  such  a  degree  of  wealth ;  all  above 
it  he  bestowed  in  secret  bounties  many 
years  after  the  sum  he  aimed  at  for  his 
own  use  was  attained.  Yet  he  did  not 
slacken  his  industry,  but  to  a  decent  old 
age  spent  the  life  and  fortune  which  was 
superfluous  to  himself,  in  the  service  of 
his  friends  and  neighbors." 

Here  we  were  called  to  dinner,  and  Sir 
Roger  ended  the  discourse  of  this  gentle- 
man, by  telling  me,  as  we  followed  the 
servant,  that  this  his  ancestor  was  a  brave 
man,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  killed  in 
the  civil  wars;  "For,"  said  he,  "he  was 
sent  out  of  the  field  upon  a  private  mes- 
sage, the  day  before  the  battle  of  Wor- 
cester." 

The  whim  of  narrowly  escaping  by 
having  been  within  a  day  of  danger,  with 
other  matters  above-mentioned,  mixed 
with  good  sense,  left  me  at  a  loss  whether 
I  was  more  delighted  with  my  friend's 
wisdom  or  simplicity. 


CHAPTER  VI. — THE  COVERLEY  GHOST. 

Horror  vbique  ardmos,  timul  ipsa  silentia  terrent. — VIBO. 

AT  a  little  distance  from  Sir  Roger's 
house,  among  the  ruins  of  an  old  abbey, 
there  is  a  long  walk  of  aged  elms,  which 
are  shot  up  so  very  high,  that  when  one 
passes  under  them,  the  rooks  and  crows 
that  rest  upon  the  tops  of  them  seem  to 
be  cawing  in  another  region.  I  am  very 
much  delighted  with  this  sort  of  noise, 
which  I  consider  as  a  kind  of  natural 
prayer  to  that  being  who  supplies  the 
wants  of  his  whole  creation,  and  who,  in. 
the  beautiful  language  of  the  psalms,  feed- 
eth  the  young  ravens  that  call  upon  him. 
I  like  this  retirement  the  better,  because 
of  an  ill  report  it  lies  under  of  being 
haunted;  for  which  reason  (as  I  have 
been  told  in  the  family)  no  living  creature 
ever  walks  in  it  besides  the  chaplain.  My 
good  friend  the  butler  desired  me  with  a 
very  grave  face  not  to  venture  myself  in 
it  after  sunset,  for  that  one  of  the  footmen 
had  been  almost  frighted  out  of  his  wits 
by  a  spirit  that  appeared  to  him  in  the 
shape  of  a  black  horse  without  an  head ; 
to  which  he  added,  that  about  a  month 
ago  one  of  the  maids  coming  home  late 


144 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


that  way  with  a  pail  of  milk  upon  her 
head,  heard  such  a  rustling  among  the 
bushes  that  she  let  it  fall. 

I  was  taking  a  walk  in  this  place  last 
night  between  the  hours  of  nine  and  ten, 
and  could  not  but  fancy  it  one  of  the 
most  proper  scenes  in  the  world  for  a 
ghost  to  appear  in.  The  ruins  of  the 
abbey  are  scattered  up  and  down  on 
every  side,  and  half  covered  with  ivv  and 
elder-bushes,  the  harbors  of  several  soli- 
tary birds  which  seldom  make  their 
appearance  till  the  dusk  of  the  evening. 
The  place  was  formerly  a  churchyard, 
and  has  still  several  marks  in  it  of  graves 
and  burying-places.  There  is  such  an 
echo  among  the  old  ruins  and  vaults,  that 
if  you  stamp  but  a  little  louder  than  ordi- 
nary, you  hear  the  sound  repeated.  At 
the  same  time  the  walk  of  elms,  with  the 
croaking  of  the  ravens  which  from  time 
to  time  are  heard  from  the  tops  of  them, 
looks  exceeding  solemn  and  venerable. 
These  objects  naturally  raise  seriousness 
and  attention ;  and  when  night  heightens 
the  awfulness  of  the  place,  and  pours  out 
her  supernumerary  horrors  upon  every- 
thing in  it,  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that 
weak  minds  fill  it  with  spectres  and  ap- 
paritions. 

Mr.  Locke,  in  his  chapter  of  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas,has  very  curious  remarks 
to  show  how  by  the  prejudice  of  educa- 
tion one  idea  often  introduces  into  the 
mind  a  whole  set  that  bear  no  resem- 
blance to  one  another  in  the  nature  of 
things.  Among  several  examples  of  this 
kind,  he  produces  the  following  instance : 
"The  ideas  of  goblins  and  sprites  have 
really  no  more  to  do  with  darkness  than 
light:  yet  let  but  a  foolish  maid  incul- 
cate these  often  on  the  mind  of  a  child, 
and  raise  them  there  together,  possibly  he 
shall  never  be  able  to  separate  them  again 
so  long  as  he  lives ;  but  darkness  shall 
ever  afterwards  bring  with  it  those  fright- 
ful ideas,  and  they  shall  be  so  joined  that 
he  can  no  more  bear  the  one  than  the 
other." 

As  I  was  walking  in  this  solitude,  where 
the  dusk  of  the  evening  conspired  with  so 
many  other  occasions  of  terror,  I  observed 
a  cow  grazing  not  far  from  me,  which  an 
imagination  that  was  apt  to  startle  might 
easily  have  construed  into  a  black  horse 
without  an  head  :  and  I  dare  say  the  poor 
footman  lost  his  wits  upon  some  such 
trivial  occasion. 


My  friend  Sir  Roger  has  often  told  me 
with  a  good  deal  of  mirth,  that  at  his  first 
coming  to  his  estate  he  found  three  parts 
of  his  house  altogether  useless;  that  the 
best  room  in  it  had  the  reputation  of 
being  haunted,  and  by  that  means  was 
locked  up ;  that  noises  had  been  heard  in 
his  long  gallery,  so  that  he  could  not  get 
a  servant  to  enter  it  after  eight  o'clock  at 
night ;  that  the  door  of  one  of  his  cham- 
bers was  nailed  up,  because  there  went  a 
story  in  the  family  that  a  butler  had  for- 
merly hanged  himself  in  it ;  and  that  his 
mother,  who  lived  to  a  great  age,  had 
shut  up  half  the  rooms  in  the  house,  in 
which  either  her  husband,  a  son,  or 
daughter  had  died.  The  knight  seeing 
his  habitation  reduced  to  so  small  a  com- 
pass, and  himself  in  a  manner  shut  out 
of  his  own  house,  upon  the  death  of  hia 
mother  ordered  all  the  apartments  to  be 
flung  open  and  exorcised  by  his  chaplain, 
who  lay  in  every  room  one  after  another, 
and  by  that  means  dissipated  the  fears 
which  had  so  long  reigned  in  the  family. 

I  should  not  have  been  thus  particular 
upon  these  ridiculous  horrors,  did  not  I 
find  them  so  very  much  prevail  in  all 

farts  of  the  country.  At  the  same  time 
think  a  person  who  is  thus  terrified  with 
the  imagination  of  ghosts  and  spectres 
much  more  reasonable  than  one  who, 
contrary  to  the  report  of  all  historians 
sacred  and  profane,  ancient  and  modern, 
and  to  the  traditions  of  all  nations,  thinks 
the  appearance  of  spirits  fabulous  and 
groundless:  could  not  I  give  myself  up 
to  this  general  testimony  of  mankind,  I 
should  to  the  relations  of  particular  per- 
sons who  are  now  living,  and  whom  I 
cannot  distrust  in  other  matters  of  fact. 
I  might  here  add,  that  not  only  the  histo- 
rians, to  whom  we  may  join  the  poets, 
but  likewise  the  philosophers  of  antiquity 
have  favored  this  opinion. 


CHAPTER  VII. — THE  COVEELEY  SABBATH. 

'AOavdros  ftlv  irpa»Ta  Oeos,  vonw  <o?  Siaxetrai., 
Ti/xa.  — PYTHAO. 

I  AM  always  very  well  pleased  with  a 
country  Sunday,  and  think,  if  keeping 
holy  the  seventh  day  were  only  a  human 
institution,  it  would  be  the  beat  method 
that  could  have  been  thought  of  for  the 
polishing  and  civilizing  of  mankind.  It 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


145 


Is  certain  the  country  people  would  soon 
degenerate  into  a  kind  of  savages  and  bar- 
barians, were  there  not  such  frequent  re- 
turns of  a  stated  time,  in  which  the  whole 
village  meet  together  with  their  best 
faces,  and  in  their  cleanliest  habits  to  con- 
verse with  one  another  upon  indifferent 
subjects,  hear  their  duties  explained  to 
them,  and  join  together  in  adoration  of 
the  Supreme  Being.  Sunday  clears  away 
the  rust  of  the  whole  week,  not  only  as  it 
refreshes  in  their  minds  the  notions  of  re- 
ligion, but  as  it  puts  both  the  sexes  upon 
appearing  in  their  most  agreeable  forms, 
and  exerting  all  such  qualities  as  are  apt 
to  give  them  a  figure  in  the  eye  of  the 
village.  A  country  fellow  distinguishes 
himself  as  much  in  the  church  yard,  as  a 
citizen  does  upon  the  change,  the  whole 
parish  politics  being  generally  discussed 
in  that  place  either  after  sermon  or  before 
the  bell  rings. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger,  being  a  good 
churchman,  has  beautified  the  inside  of 
his  church  with  several  texts  of  his  own 
choosing :  He  has  likewise  given  a  hand- 
some pulpit  cloth,  and  railed  in  the  com- 
munion table  at  his  own  expense.  He 
has  often  told  me,  that  at  his  coming  to 
his  estate  he  found  his  parishioners  very 
irregular ;  and  that  in  order  to  make  them 
kneel  and  join  in  the  responses,  he  gave 
every  one  of  them  a  hassock  and  a  Com- 
mon-prayer Book :  and  at  the  same  time 
employed  an  itinerant  singing  master,  who 
goes  about  the  country  for  that  purpose, 
to  instruct  them  rightly  in  the  tunes  of 
the  psalms ;  upon  which  they  now  very 
much  value  themselves,  and  indeed  out- 
do most  of  the  country  churches  that  I 
have  ever  heard. 

As  Sir  Roger  is  landlord  to  the  whole 
congregation,  he  keeps  them  in  very  good 
order,  and  will  suffer  nobody  to  sleep  in 
it  besides  himself;  for  if  by  chance  he  has 
been  surprised  into  a  short  nap  at  sermon, 
upon  recovering  out  of  it  he  stands  up  and 
looks  about  him,  and  if  he  sees  any  body 
else  nodding,  either  wakes  them  himself  or 
sends  his  servants  to  them.  Several  other 
of  the  old  Knight's  particularities  break 
out  upon  these  occasions ;  sometimes  he 
will  be  lengthening  out  a  verse  in  the 
singing-psalms,  half  a  minute  after  the 
rest  of  the  congregation  have  done  with 
it;  sometimes,  when  he  is  pleased  with 
the  matter  of  his  devotion,  he  pronounces 
Amen  three  or  four  times  to  the  same 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


prayer:  and  sometimes  stands  up  when 
every  body  else  is  upon  their  knees,  to 
count  the  congregation,  or  see  if  auy  of 
his  tenants  are  missing. 

I  was  yesterday  very  much  surprised  to 
hear  my  old  friend,  in  the  midst  of  the 
service,  calling  out  to  one  John  Matthews 
to  mind  what  he  was  about,  and  not  dis- 
turb the  congregation.  This  John  Mat- 
thews it  seems  is  remarkable  for  being  an 
idle  fellow,  and  at  that  time  was  kicking 
his  heels  for  his  diversion.  This  authority 
of  the  Knight,  though  exerted  in  that  odd 
manner  which  accompanies  him  in  all 
circumstances  of  life,  has  a  very  good 
effect  upon  the  parish,  who  are  not  polite 
enough  to  see  any  thing  ridiculous  in  his 
behaviour ;  besides  that  the  general  good 
sense  and  worthiness  of  his  character 
makes  his  friends  observe  these  little 
singularities  as  foils  that  rather  set  off 
than  blemish  his  good  qualities. 

As  soon  as  the  sermon  is  finished,  no- 
body presumes  to  stir  till  Sir  Roger  is 
gone  out  of  the  church.  The  Knight  walks 
down  from  his  seat  in  the  chancel  between 
a  double  row  of  his  tenants,  that  stand 
bowing  to  him  on  each  side :  and  every 
now  and  then  inquires  how  such  an  one's 
wife,  or  mother,  or  son,  or  father  do, 
whom  he  does  not  see  at  church :  which 
is  understood  as  a  secret  reprimand  to 
the  person  that  is  absent. 

The  chaplain  has  often  told  me,  that 
upon  a  catechising  day,  when  Sir  Roger 
has  been  pleased  with  a  boy  that  answers 
well,  he  has  ordered  a  Bible  to  be  given 
him  next  day  for  his  encouragement;  and 
sometimes  accompanies  it  with  a  flitch  of 
bacon  to  his  mother.  Sir  Roger  has  like- 
wise added  five  pounds  a  year  to  the 
clerk's  place ;  and  that  he  may  encourage 
the  young  fellows  to  make  themselves  per- 
fect in  the  church-service,  has  promised 
upon  the  death  of  the  present  incumbent, 
who  is  very  old,  to  bestow  it  according  to 
merit. 

The  fair  understanding  between  Sir 
Roger  and  his  chaplain,  and  their  mutual 
concurrence  in  doing  good,  is  the  more 
remarkable,  because  the  very  next  village 
is  famous  for  the  differences  and  conten- 
tions that  rise  between  the  Parson  and  the 
'Squire,  who  live  in  a  perpetual  state  of 
war.  The  Parson  is  always  preaching  at 
the  'Squire,  and  the  'Squire  to  be  revenged 
on  the  Parson  never  comes  to  church. 
The  'bquire  has  made  all  his  tenant* 

10 


146 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


atheists  and  tithe-stealers ;  while  the  Par- 
son instructs  them  every  Sunday  in  the 
dignity  of  his  order,  and  insinuates  to 
them  in  almost  every  sermon,  that  he  is  a 
better  man  than  his  patron.  In  short, 
matters  are  come  to  such  an  extremity, 
that  the  'Squire  has  not  said  his  prayers 
either  in  public  or  private  this  half  year ; 
and  that  the  Parson  threatens  him,  if  he 
does  not  mend  his  manners,  to  pray  for 
him  in  the  face  of  the  whole  congrega- 
tion. 

Feuds  of  this  nature,  though  too  fre- 
quent in  the  country,  are  very  fatal  to  the 
ordinary  people ;  who  are  so  used  to  be 
dazzled  with  riches,  that  they  pay  as 
much  deference  to  the  understanding  of  a 
man  of  an  estate,  as  of  a  man  of  learning ; 
and  are  very  hardly  brought  to  regard  any 
truth,  how  important  soever  it  may  be, 
that  is  preached  to  them,  when  they  know 
there  are  several  men  of  five  hundred  a 
year  who  do  not  believe  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. — SIB  ROGER  IN  LOVE.1 

Hserent  infixi  pectore  vultut. — VIBG. 

IN  my  first  description  of  the  company 
in  which  I  pass  most  of  my  time,  it  may 
be  remembered  that  I  mentioned  a  great 
affliction  which  my  friend  Sir  Roger  had 
met  with  in  his  youth ;  which  was  no  less 
than  a  disappointment  in  love.  It  hap- 
pened this  evening,  that  we  fell  into  a 
very  pleasing  walk  at  a  distance  from  his 
house:  as  soon  as  we  came  into  it,  "  It  is," 
quoth  the  good  old  man,  looking  round 
him  with  a  smile,  "  very  hard,  that  any 
part  of  my  land  should  be  settled  upon 
one  who  has  used  me  so  ill  as  the  perverse 
widow  did ;  and  yet  I  am  sure  I  could  not 
see  a  sprig  of  any  bough  of  this  whole 
walk  of  trees,  but  I  should  reflect  upon 
her  and  her  severity.  She  has  certainly 
the  finest  hand  of  any  woman  in  the 
world.  You  are  to  know  this  was  the 
place  wherein  I  used  to  muse  upon  her ; 
and  by  that  custom  I  can  never  come  into 
it,  but  the  same  tender  sentiments  revive 
in  my  mind,  as  if  I  had  actually  walked 
with  that  beautiful  creature  under  these 
shades.  I  have  been  fool  enough  to  carve 
her  name  on  the  bark  of  several  of  these 
trees ;  so  unhappy  is  the  condition  of  men 


By  Steel*. 


in  love,  to  attempt  the  removing  of  their 
passions  by  the  methods  which  serve  only 
to  imprint  it  deeper.  She  has  certainly 
the  finest  hand  of  any  woman  in  the 
world." 

Here  followed  a  profound  silence  ;  and 
I  was  not  displeased  to  observe  my  friend 
falling  so  naturally  into  a  discourse, 
which  I  have  ever  before  taken  notice  he 
industriously  avoided.  After  a  very  long 
pause  he  entered  upon  an  account  of  this 
great  circumstance  of  his  life,  with  an  air 
which  I  thought  raised  my  idea  of  him 
above  what  I  had  ever  had  before :  and 
gave  me  the  picture  of  that  cheerful  mind 
of  his,  before  he  received  that  stroke 
which  has  ever  since  affected  his  words 
and  actions.  But  he  went  on  as  follows: 

"I  came  to  my  estate  in  my  twenty- 
second  year,  and  resolved  to  follow  the 
steps  of  the  most  worthy  of  my  ancestors 
who  have  inhabited  this  spot  of  earth 
before  me,  in  all  the  methods  of  hospital- 
ity and  good  neighborhood,  for  the  sake 
of  my  fame ;  and  in  country  sports  and 
recreations,  for  the  sake  of  my  health. 
In  my  twenty-third  year  I  was  obliged  to 
serve  as  sheriff  of  the  county  ;  and  in  my 
servants,  officers  and  whole  equipage, 
indulged  the  pleasure  of  a  young  man 
(who  did  not  think  ill  of  his  own  person) 
in  taking  that  public  occasion  of  showing 
my  figure  and  behaviour  to  advantage. 
You  may  easily  imagine  to  yourself  what 
appearance  I  made,  who  am  pretty  tall, 
rid  well,  and  was  very  well  dressed,  at  the 
head  of  a  whole  county,  with  music  before 
me,  a  feather  in  my  hat,  and  my  horse 
well  bitted.  I  can  assure  you  I  was  not  a 
little  pleased  with  the  kind  looks  and 
glances  I  had  from  all  the  balconies  and 
windows  as  I  rode  to  the  hall  where  the 
assizes  were  held.  But  when  I  came  there, 
a  beautiful  creature  in  a  widow's  cap  sat 
in  court,  to  hear  the  event  of  a  cause  con- 
cerning her  dower.  This  commanding 
creature  (who  was  born  for  destruction  of 
all  who  behold  her)  put  on  such  a  resigna- 
tion in  her  countenance,  and  bore  the 
whispers  of  all  around  the  court,  with 
such  a  pretty  uneasiness,  I  warrant  you, 
and  then  recovered  herself  from  one  eye 
to  another,  till  she  was  perfectly  confused 
by  meeting  something  so  wistful  in  all  she 
encountered,  that  at  last,  with  a  murrain 
to  her,  she  cast  her  bewitching  eye  upon 
me.  I  no  sooner  met  it,  but  I  bowed  like 
a  great  surprised  booby  ;  and  knowing  her 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


147 


cause  to  be  the  first  which  came  on,  I 
cried,  like  a  captivated  calf  as  I  was, 
Make  way  for  the  defendant's  witnesses. 
This  sudden  partiality  made  all  the  county 
immediately  see  the  Sheriff  also  was  be- 
come a  slave  to  the  fine  widow.  During 
the  time  her  cause  was  upon  trial,  she 
behaved  herself,  I  warrant  you,  with  such 
a  deep  attention  to  her  business,  took 
opportunities  to  have  little  billets  handed 
to  her  counsel,  then  would  be  in  such  a 
pretty  confusion,  occasioned,  you  must 
know,  by  acting  before  so  much  company, 
that  not  only  I  but  the  whole  court  was 
prejudiced  in  her  favor ;  and  all  that  the 
next  heir  to  her  husband  had  to  urge,  was 
thought  so  groundless  and  frivolous,  that 
when  it  came  to  her  counsel  to  reply, 
there  was  not  half  so  much  said  as  every- 
one besides  in  the  court  thought  he  could 
have  urged  to  her  advantage.  You  must 
understand,  sir,  this  perverse  woman  is 
one  of  those  unaccountable  creatures,  that 
secretly  rejoice  in  the  admiration  of  men, 
but  indulge  themselves  in  no  further  con- 
sequences. Hence  it  is  tKat  she  has  ever 
had  a  train  of  admirers,  and  she  removes 
from  her  slaves  in  town  to  those  in  the 
country,  according  to  the  seasons  of  the 
year.  She  is  a  reading  lady,  and  far  gone 
in  the  pleasures  of  friendship:  she  is 
always  accompanied  by  a  confidant,  who 
is  witness  to  her  daily  protestations  against 
our  sex,  and  consequently  a  bar  to  her 
first  steps  towards  love,  upon  the  strength 
of  her  own  maxims  and  declarations. 

"However,  I  must  needs  say  this  ac- 
complished mistress  of  mine  has  distin- 
fuished  me  above  the  rest,  and  has  been 
nown  to  declare  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley 
was  the  tamest  and  most  humane  of  all 
the  brutes  in  the  country.  I  was  told  she 
said  so  by  one  who  thought  he  rallied 
me ;  but  upon  the  strength  of  this  slender 
encouragement  of  being  thought  least  de- 
testable I  made  new  liveries,  new-paired 
my  coach-horses,  sent  them  all  to  town 
to  be  bitted,  and  taught  to  throw  their 
legs  well,  and  move  all  together,  before  I 
pretended  to  cross  the  country  and  wait 
upon  her.  As  soon  as  I  thought  my  re- 
tinue suitable  to  the  character  of  my  for- 
tune and  youth,  I  set  out  from  hence  to 
make  my  addresses.  The  particular  skill 
of  this  lady  has  ever  been  to  inflame  your 
wishes,  and  yet  command  respect.  To 
make  her  mistress  of  this  art,  she  has  a 
greater  share  of  knowledge,  wit,  and  good 


sense,  than  is  usual  even  among  men  of 
merit.    Then  she  is  beautiful  beyond  the 
race  of  women.    If  you  won't  let  her  go 
on  with  a  certain  artifice  with  her  eyes, 
and  the  skill  of  beauty,  she  will  arm  her- 
self with  her  real  charms,  and  strike  you 
with  admiration.  It  is  certain  that  if  you 
were  to  behold  the  whole  woman,  there  is 
that  dignity  in  her  aspect,  that  composure 
in  her  motion,  that  complacency  in  her 
manner,  that  if  her  form  makes  you  hope, 
her  merit  makes  you  fear.      But  then 
again,  she  is  such  a  desperate  scholar, 
that  no  country-gentleman  can  approach 
her  without  being  a  jest.    As  I  was  going 
to  tell  you,  when  I  came  to  her  house  I 
was  admitted  to  her  presence  with  great 
civility;  at  the  same  time  she  placed  her- 
self to  be  first  seen  by  me  in  such  an  atti- 
tude, as  I  think  you  call  the  posture  of  a 
picture,  that  she  discovered  new  charms, 
and  I  at  last  came  towards  her  with  such 
an  awe  as  made  me  speechless.    This  she 
no  sooner  observed  but  she  made  her  ad- 
vantage of  it,  and  began  to  discourse  to 
me  concerning  love  and  honor,  as  they 
both  are  followed  by  pretenders,  and  the 
real  votaries  to  them.    When  she  dis- 
cussed these  points  in  a  discourse,  which 
I  verily  believe  was  as  learned  as  the  best 
philosopher  in    Europe   could   possibly 
make,  she  asked  me  whether  she  was  so 
happy  as  to  fall  in  with  my  sentiments 
on  these  important  particulars.  Her  con- 
fident sat  by  her,  and  upon  my  being  in 
the  last  confusion  and  silence,  this  mali- 
cious aid  of  hers  turning  to  her  says,  I  am 
very  glad  to  observe  Sir  Roger  pauses 
upon  this  subject,  and  seems  resolved  to 
deliver  all  his  sentiments  upon  the  matter 
when  he  pleases  to  speak.    They  both 
kept  their  countenances,  and  after  I  had 
sat  half  an  hour  meditating  how  to  be- 
have before  such  profound  casuists,  I  rose 
up  and  took  my  leave.    Chance  has  since 
that  time  thrown  me  very  often  in  her 
way,  and  she  as  often  has  directed  a  dis- 
course to  me  which  I  do  not  understand. 
This  barbarity  has  kept  me  ever  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  most  beautiful  object  my 
eyes  ever  beheld.    It  is  thus  also  she 
deals  with  all  mankind,  and  you  must 
make  love  to  her,  as  you  would  conquer 
the  sphinx,  by  posing  her.    But  were  she 
like  other  women,  and  that  there  were 
any  talking  to  her,  how  constant  must  the 
jleasure  or  that  man  be,  who  could  con- 
rerse  with  such  a  creature — But,  after  ?U, 


148 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


you  may  be  sure  her  heart  is  fixed  on 
some  one  or  other ;  and  yet  I  have  been 
credibly  informed;  but  who  can  believe 
half  that  is  said!  After  she  had  done 
speaking  to  me,  she  put  her  hand  to  her 
bosom  and  adjusted  her  tucker.  Then 
she  cast  her  eyes  a  little  down,  upon  my 
beholding  her  too  earnestly.  They  say 
she  sings  excellently:  her  voice  in  her 
ordinary  speech  has  something  in  it  inex- 
pressibly sweet.  You  must  know  I  dined 
with  her  at  a  public  table  the  day  after  I 
first  saw  her,  and  she  helped  me  to  some 
tansy  in  the  eye  of  all  the  gentlemen  in 
the  country :  she  has  certainly  the  finest 
hand  of  any  woman  in  the  world.  I  can 
assure  you,  sir,  were  you  to  behold  her, 
you  would  be  in  the  same  condition ;  for 
as  her  speech  is  music,  her  form  is  angelic. 
But  I  find  I  grow  irregular  while  I  am 
talking  of  her;  but  indeed  it  would  be 
stupidity  to  be  unconcerned  at  such  per- 
fection. Oh  the  excellent  creature!  she 
is  as  inimitable  to  all  women,  as  she  is 
inaccessible  to  all  men." 

I  found  my  friend  begin  to  rave,  and 
insensibly  led  him  towards  the  house, 
that  he  might  be  joined  by  some  other 
company ;  and  am  convinced  that  the 
widow1  is  the  secret  cause  of  all  that  in- 
consistency which  appears  in  some  parts 
of  my  friend's  discourse  ;  though  he  has 
so  much  command  of  himself  as  not 
directly  to  mention  her,  yet  according  to 
that  of  Martial  which  one  knows  not  how 
to  render  into  English,  Dum  tacet,  hanc 


1  Both  Addison  and  Steele  had  suffered  from  perverse 
Widows  ;  and  who  knows  but  this  "  confluence  of  con- 
genial sentiment "  springing  from  a  like  source  was  one 
cause  of  these  differently  constituted  men  being  long 
united  in  friendship  ? 

The  tantalising  dominion  under  which  Addison  suf- 
fered when  the  Coverley  papers  were  in  progress,  was 
exercised  by  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Warwick,  whom 
he  was  anxiously  courting;  "perhaps,"  says  Dr.  John- 
ion,  "  with  behaviour  not  very  unlike  that  of  Sir  Roger 
to  his  disdainful  widow."  The  result,  though  different, 
was  not  happier  than  Sir  Roger's  destiny.  Not  till  four 
years  after  the  Coverley  papers  had  been  finished  did 
Addison  succeed  in  his  suit.  "On  the  2d  August,  1716," 
continues  the  biographer  of  the  poets,  "  he  married  the 
Countess,  on  terms  much  like  those  on  which  a  Turkish 
Princess  is  espoused ;  to  whom  the  Sultan  is  reported  to 
pronounce  '  Daughter,  I  give  thee  this  man  for  thy 
»lave.'  "  This  marriage  was  only  a  change  from  one 
lort  of  unhappiness  to  another, — from  the  intermittent 
vexations  of  a  slighted  lover,  to  the  chronic  miseries  of 
M>  ill-matched  husband. 


loquitur.  I  shall  end  this  paper  with  that 
whole  epigram,  which  represents  with 
much  humor  my  honest  friend's  condition : 

Quicquid  agit  Rufus,  nihil  est,  nisi  Nsevia 

Rufo, 

Si  gaudet,  si  net,  si  tacet,  hanc  loquitur : 
Coenat,  propinat,  poscit,  negat,  innuit,  Una 

est 

Nsevia  ;  Si  non  sit  Nsevia.mutus  erit. 

Scriberet  hesterna  patri  cum   luce  salutem, 

Nsevia  lux,  inquit,  Naevia,numen,  ave. 

Let  Rufus  weep,  rejoice,  stand,  sit,  or  walk, 
Still  he  can  nothing  but  of  Nsevia  talk ; 
Let  him  eat,  drink,  ask  questions,  or  dispute, 
Still  he  must  speak  of  Nsevia,  or  be  mute. 
He  writ  his  father,  ending  with  this  line, 
I  am,  my  lovely  Neevia,  ever  thine. 


CHAPTER  IX. — THE  COVERLEY  ECONOMY.1 

Pauptrtatis  pudor  etfuga. — HOB. 

ECONOMY  in  our  affairs  has  the  same 
effect  upon  our  fortunes  which  good- 
breeding  has  upon  our  conversations. 
There  is  a  pretending  behaviour  in  both 
cases,  which,  instead  of  making  men  es- 
teemed, renders  them  both  miserable  and 
contemptible.  We  had  yesterday  at  Sir 
Roger's  a  set  of  country  gentlemen  who 
dined  with  him:  and  after  dinner  the 
glass  was  taken,  by  those  who  pleased, 
pretty  plentifully.  Among  others  I  ob- 
served a  person  of  a  tolerable  good  aspect, 
who  seemed  to  be  more  greedy  of  liquor 


Probability,  however,  rejects  Lady  Warwick  as  the 
model  we  seek.  To  find  it  -we  must,  it  is  said,  turn  to 
Steele's  tormentress.  Addison's  sufferings  were  in  full 
force  when  the  sketch  -was  made;  Steele's  were  past. 
Addison's  tortures  were  too  real  and  operative  for  the 
unchecked  flow  of  that  genial  humor — for  that  fine 
tolerance  of  the  widow's  cruelty — which  pervades  every 
allusion  to  her :  Steele's  pains  had,  on  the  contrary,  been 
first  assuaged  by  time,  and  then,  let  us  hope,  extin. 
guished  by  matrimony  with  another — and  another 
While,  therefore,  experience  had  made  him  master  of  a 
widow's  arts,  the  retrospect  of  what  he  had  suffered 
from  them  was  too  remote  to  darken  the  shadows,  or  to 
sour  the  expressions  of  the  portrait.  Hence  it  is  his 
signature  that  appears  to  this  paper,  and  his  widow  who 
is  said  to  have  inspired  them.  The  original  of  th« 
character  is  believed  to  have  been  Mrs.  Boevey,  of  FU* 
ley  Abbey,  near  Worcestershire. 

i  By  Steele. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


149 


than  any  of  the  company,  and  yet,  me- 
thought,  he  did  not  taste"  it  with  delight. 
As  he  grew  warm,  he  was  suspicious  of 
every  thing  that  was  said  ;  and  as  he  ad- 
vanced towards  being  fuddled,  his  humor 
grew  worse.  At  the  same  time  his  bitter- 
ness seemed  to  be  rather  an  inward  dis- 
satisfaction in  his  own  mind,  than  any 
dislike  he  had  taken  to  the  company. 
Upon  hearing  his  name,  I  knew  him  to  be 
a  gentleman  of  considerable  fortune  in  this 
county,  but  greatly  in  debt.  What  gives 
the  unhappy  man  this  peevishness  of 
spirit,  is,  that  his  estate  is  dipped,  and  is 
eating  out  with  usury  ;  and  yet  he  has  not 
the  heart  to  sell  any  part  of  it.  His  proud 
stomach,  at  the  cost  of  restless  nights, 
constant  inquietudes,  danger  of  affronts, 
and  a  thousand  nameless  inconveniences, 
preserves  this  canker  in  his  fortune, 
rather  than  it  shall  be  said  he  is  a  man  of 
fewer  hundreds  a  year  than  he  has  been 
commonly  reputed.  Thus  he  endures  the 
torment  of  poverty,  to  avoid  the  name  of 
being  less  rich.  If  you  go  to  his  house 
you  see  great  plenty ;  but  served  in  a 
manner  that  shows  it  is  all  unnatural,  and 
that  the  master's  mind  is  not  at  home. 
There  is  a  certain  waste  and  carelessness  in 
the  air  of  every  thing,  and  the  whole  ap- 
pears but  a  covered  indigence,  a  magnifi- 
cent poverty.  That  neatness  and  cheerful- 
ness which  attends  the  table  of  him  who 
lives  within  compass,  is  wanting,  and  ex- 
changed for  a  libertine-way  of  service  in 
all  about  him. 

This  gentleman's  conduct,  though  a 
very  common  way  of  management,  is  as 
ridiculous  as  that  officer's  would  be.  who 
had  but  few  men  under  his  command,  and 
should  take  the  charge  of  an  extent  of 
country  rather  than  of  a  small  pass.  To 
pay  for,  personate,  and  keep  in  a  man's 
hands,  a  greater  estate  than  he  really  has, 
is  of  all  others  the  most  unpardonable 
vanity,  and  must  in  the  end  reduce  the 
man  who  is  guilty  of  it  to  dishonor.  Yet 
if  we  look  round  us  in  any  county  of 
Great  Britain,  we  shall  see  many  in  this 
fatal  error ;  if  that  may  be  called  by  so 
soft  a  name,  which  proceeds  from  a  false 
shame  of  appearing  what  they  really  are, 
when  the  contrary  behaviour  would  in  a 
short  time  advance  them  to  the  condition 
which  they  pretend  to. 

Laertes  has  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a 
year ;  which  is  mortgaged  for  six  thousand 
pounds ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  convince 


him  that  if  he  sold  as  much  as  would  pay 
off  that  debt,  he  would  save  four  shillings 
in  the  pound,  which  he  gives  for  the 
vanity  of  being  the  reputed  master  of  it. 
Yet  if  Laertes  did  this,  he  would  perhaps 
be  easier  in  his  own  fortune ;  but  then 
Irus,  a  fellow  of  yesterday,  who  has  but 
twelve  hundred  a  year,  would  be  his  equal. 
Bather  than  this  shall  be,  Laertes  goes 
on  to  bring  well-born  beggars  into  the 
world,  and  every  twelvemonth  charges 
his  estate  with  at  least  one  year's  rent 
more  by  the  birth  of  a  child. 

Laertes  and  Irus  are  neighbors,  whose 
way  of  living  are  an  abomination  to  each 
other.  Irus  is  moved  by  the  fear  of 
poverty,  and  Laertes  by  the  shame  of  it. 
Though  the  motive  of  action  is  of  so  near 
affinity  in  both,  and  may  be  resolved  into 
this,  "  That  to  each  of  them  poverty  is  the 
greatest  of  all  evils,"  yet  are  their  man- 
ners very  widely  different.  Shame  of 
poverty  makes  Laertes  launch  into  un- 
necessary equipage,  vain  expense,  and 
lavish  entertainments ;  fear  of  poverty 
makes  Irus  allow  himself  only  plain 
necessaries,  appear  without  a  servant,  sell 
his  own  corn,  attend  his  laborers,  and  be 
himself  a  laborer.  Shame  of  poverty 
makes  Laertes  go  every  day  a  step  nearer 
to  it,  and  fear  of  poverty  stirs  up  Irus  to 
make  every  day  some  further  progress 
from  it. 

These  different  motives  produce  the 
excesses  which  men  are  guilty  of  in  th« 
negligence  of  and  provision  for  them- 
selves. Usury,  stock-jobbing,  extortion 
and  oppression,  have  their  seed  iu  the 
dread  of  want ;  and  vanity,  riot  and  pro- 
digality, from  the  shame  of  it ;  but  both 
these  excesses  are  infinitely  below  the, 
pursuit  of  a  reasonable  creature.  AfteK 
we  have  taken  care  to  command  so  much 
as  is  necessary  for  maintaining  ourselves 
in  the  order  of  men  suitable  to  our  char- 
acter, the  care  of  superfluities  is  a  vice  no 
less  extravagant,  than  the  neglect  of 
necessaries  would  have  been  before. 

It  would  methinks  be  no  ill  maxim  of 
life,  if  according  to  that  ancestor  of  Sir 
Roger,  whom  I  lately  mentioned,  every 
man  would  point  to  himself  what  sum  he 
would  resolve  not  to  exceed.  He  might 
by  this  means  cheat  himself  into  a  tran- 
quillity on  this  side  of  that  expectation,  or 
convert  what  he  should  get  above  it  to 
nobler  uses  than  his  own  pleasures  or 
necessities. 


150 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


It  is  possible  that  the  tranquillity  I  now 
enjoy  at  Sir  Roger's  may  have  created  in 
me  this  way  of  thinking,  which  is  so  ab- 
stracted from  the  common  relish  of  the 
world :  but  as  I  am  now  in  a  pleasing 
arbor  surrounded  with  a  beautiful  land- 
skip,  I  find  no  inclination  so  strong  as  to 
continue  in  these  mansions,  so  remote 
from  the  ostentatious  scenes  of  life  ;  and 
am  at  this  present  writing  philosopher 
enough  to  conclude  with  Mr.  Cowley, 

If  e'er  ambition  did  my  fancy  cheat, 
With  any  wish  so  mean  as  to  be  great; 
Continue,  Heaven,  still  from  me  to  remove 
The  humble  blessings  of  that  life  I  love  1 


CHAPTER  X. — THE  COVEELEY  HUNT. 

IX  tit  men*  tana  in  corpora  sano. — Juv. 

HAD  not  exercise  been  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  our  well  being,  nature  would  not 
have  made  the  body  so  proper  for  it,  by 
giving  such  an  activity  to  the  limbs,  and 
such  a  pliancy  to  every  part  as  necessarily 
produce  those  compressions,  extensions, 
contortions,  dilatations,  and  all  other 
kinds  of  motions  that  are  necessary  for  the 
preservation  of  such  a  system  of  tubes  and 
glands  as  has  been  before  mentioned. 
And  that  we  might  not  want  inducements 
to  engage  us  in  such  an  exercise  of  the 
body  as  is  proper  for  its  welfare,  it  is  so 
ordered  that  nothing  valuable  can  be  pro- 
cured without  it.  Not  to  mention  riches 
and  honor,  even  food  and  raiment  are  not 
to  be  come  at  without  the  toil  of  the  hands 
and  sweat  of  the  brows.  Providence 
furnishes  materials,  but  expects  that  we 
should  work  them  up  ourselves.  The 
earth  must  be  labored  before  it  gives  its 
increase,  and  when  it  is  forced  into  its 
several  products,  how  many  hands  must 
they  pass  through  before  they  are  fit  for 
use  ?  Manufactures,  trade  and  agriculture, 
naturally  employ  more  than  nineteen  parts 
of  the  species  in  twenty ;  and  as  for  those 
who  are  not  obliged  to  labor,  by  the  con- 
dition in  which  they  are  born,  they  are 
more  miserable  than  the  rest  of  mankind, 
unless  they  indulge  themselves  in  that 
voluntary  labor  which  goes  by  the  name 
of  exercise. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  has  been  an  inde- 
fatigable man  in  business  of  this  kind, 
and  has  hung  several  parts  of  his  house 
with  the  trophies  of  nis  former  labors. 


The  walls  of  his  great  hall  are  covered 
with  the  horns  of  several  kinds  of  deer 
that  he  has  killed  in  the  chase,  which  he 
thinks  the  most  valuable  furniture  of  his 
house,  as  they  afford  him  frequent  topics 
of  discourse,  and  show  that  he  has  not 
been  idle.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  hall 
is  a  large  otter's  skin  stuffed  with  hay, 
which  his  mother  ordered  to  be  hung  up 
in  that  manner,  and  the  knight  looks  upon 
with  great  satisfaction,  because  it  seems 
he  was  but  nine  years  old  when  his  dog 
killed  him.  A  little  room  adjoining  to 
the  hall  is  a  kind  of  arsenal  filled  with 
guns  of  several  sizes  and  inventions,  with 
which  the  knight  has  made  great  havoc 
in  the  woods,  and  destroyed  many  thou- 
sands of  pheasants,  partridges  and  wood- 
cocks. His  stable  doors  are  patched  with 
noses  that  belonged  to  foxes  of  the 
knight's  own  hunting  down.  Sir  Roger 
showed  me  one  of  them  that  for  distinc- 
tion sake  has  a  brass  nail  struck  through 
it,  which  cost  him  about  fifteen  hours 
riding,  carried  him  through  half  a  dozen 
counties,  killed  him  a  brace  of  geldings, 
and  lost  above  half  his  dogs.  This  the 
knight  looks  upon  as  one  of  the  greatest 
exploits  of  his  life.  The  perverse  widow, 
whom  I  have  given  some  account  of,  was 
the  death  of  several  foxes ;  for  Sir  Roger 
has  told  me  that  in  the  course  of  nis 
amours  he  patched  the  western  door  of  his 
stable.  Whenever  the  widow  was  cruel, 
the  foxes  were  sure  to  pay  for  it.  In  pro- 
portion as  his  passion  for  the  widow 
abated  and  old  age  came  on,  he  left  off 
fox-hunting;  but  a  hare  is  not  yet  safe 
that  sits  within  ten  miles  of  his  house.1 

After  what  has  been  said,  I  need  not 
inform  my  readers,  that  Sir  Roger,  with 
whose  character  I  hope  they  are  at  present 
pretty  well  acquainted,  has  in  his  youth 
gone  through  the  whole  course  of  those 
rural  diversions  which  the  country  abounds 
in ;  and  which  seem  to  be  extremely  well 
suited  to  that  laborious  industry  a  man 
may  observe  here  in  a  far  greater  degree 
than  in  towns  and  cities.  I  have  before 
hinted  at  some  of  my  friend's  exploits : 
he  has  in  his  youthful  days  taken  forty 
coveys  of  partridges  in  a  season ;  and 
tired  many  a  salmon  with  a  line  consist- 
ing but  of  a  single  hair.  The  constant 
thanks  and  good  wishes  of  the  neighbor- 
hood always  attended  him,  on  account  of 


1  The  remainder  of  the  chapter  is  by  Budgell. 


SIB.  KOGER  DE  COVEELEY. 


151 


his  remarkable  enmity  towards  foxes; 
having  destroyed  more  of  those  vermin 
in  one  year,  than  it  was  thought  the  whole 
country  could  have  produced.  Indeed 
the  Knight  does  not  scruple  to  own  among 
his  most  intimate  friends,  that  in  order 
to  establish  his  reputation  this  way,  he 
has  secretly  sent  for  great  numbers  of 
them  out  of  other  counties,  which  he 
used  to  turn  loose  about  the  country  by 
night,  that  he  might  the  better  signalize 
himself  in  their  destruction  the  next  day. 
His  hunting-horses  were  the  finest  and 
best  managed  in  all  these  parts ;  his 
tenants  are  still  full  of  the  praises  of  a 
gray  stone-horse  that  unhappily  staked 
himself  several  years  since,  and  was  buried 
with  great  solemnity  in  the  orchard. 

Sir  Roger,  being  at  present  too  old  for 
fox  hunting,  to  keep  himself  in  action, 
has  disposed  of  his  beagles  and  got  a  pack 
of  stop -hounds.  What  these  want  in 
speed,  he  endeavors  to  make  amends  for 
by  the  deepness  of  their  mouths  and  the 
variety  of  their  notes,  which  are  suited  in 
such  manner  to  each  other,  that  the  whole 
cry  makes  up  a  complete  consort.  He  is 
so  nice  in  this  particular,  that  a  gentleman 
having  made  him  a  present  of  a  very  fine 
hound  the  other  day,  the  Knight  returned 
it  by  the  servant  with  a  great  many  ex- 
pressions of  civility ;  but  desired  him  to 
tell  his  master,  that  the  dog  he  had  sent 
was  indeed  a  most  excellent  bass,  but  that 
at  present  he  only  wanted  a  counter-tenor. 
Could  I  believe  my  friend  had  ever  read 
Shakespeare,  I  should  certainly  conclude 
he  had  taken  the  hint  from  Theseus  in 
the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream : 

My  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 
So  flushed,  so  sanded  5  and  their  heads  are 

hung 

With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew. 
Crook-kneed  and  dew-lapped  like  Thessalian 

bulls. 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  matched  in  mouths  like 

bells, 

Each  under  each  :  A  cry  more  tuneable 
Was  never  bellowed  to,  nor  cheered  with  horn. 

Sir  Roger  is  so  keen  at  this  sport,  that 
he  has  been  out  almost  every  day  since  I 
came  down ;  and  upon  the  chaplain's 
offering  to  lend  me  his  easy  pad,  I  was 
prevailed  on  yesterday  morning  to  make 
one  of  the  company.  I  was  extremely 
pleased,  as  we  rid  along,  to  observe  the 


general  benevolence  of  all  the  neighbor- 
hood towards  my  friend.  The  farmer's 
sons  thought  themselves  happy  if  they 
could  open  a  gate  for  the  good  old  Knight, 
as  he  passed  by ;  which  he  generally  re- 
quited with  a  nod  or  a  smile,  and  a  kind 
inquiry  after  their  fathers  and  uncles. 

After  we  had  rid  about  a  mile  from 
home,  we  came  upon  a  large  heath,  and 
the  sportsmen  began  to  beat.  They  had 
done  so  for  some  time,  when  as  I  was  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany, I  saw  a  hare  pop  out  from  a  small 
furze  brake  almost  under  my  horse's  feet. 
I  marked  the  way  she  took,  which  I 
endeavored  to  make  the  company  sensible 
of  by  extending  my  arm ;  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, till  Sir  Roger,  who  knows  that  none 
of  my  extraordinary  motions  are  insignifi- 
cant, rode  up  to  me,  and  asked  me  "  if 
puss  was  gone  that  way?"  Upon  my 
answering  "yes,'1  he  immediately  called 
in  the  dogs,  and  put  them  upon  the  scent. 
As  they  were  going  off,  I  heard  one  of  the 
country  fellows  muttering  to  his  com- 
panion, "  That  't  was  a  wonder  they  had 
not  lost  all  their  sport,  for  want  of  the 
silent  gentleman's  crying  'stole  away.'  " 

This,  with  my  aversion  to  leaping 
hedges,  made  me  withdraw  to  a  rising 
ground,  from  whence  I  could  have  the 
pleasure  of  the  whole  chase,  without  the 
fatigue  of  keeping  in  with  the  hounds. 
The  hare  immediately  threw  them  above 
a  mile  behind  her  ;  but  I  was  pleased  to 
find,  that  instead  of  running  straight  for- 
wards, or  in  hunter's  language,  flying 
the  country,"  as  I  was  afraid  she  might 
have  done,  she  wheeled  about,  and  de- 
scribed a  sort  of  circle  round  the  hill 
where  I  had  taken  my  station,  in  such 
manner  as  gave  me  a  very  distinct  view 
of  the  sport.  I  could  see  her  first  pass  by, 
and  the  dogs  some  time  afterwards  un- 
ravelling the  whole  track  she  had  made, 
and  following  her  through  all  her  dou- 
bles. I  was  at  the  same  time  delighted 
in  observing  that  deference  which  the 
rest  of  the  pack  paid  to  each  particular 
hound,  according  to  the  character  he  had 
acquired  amongst  them :  if  they  were  at 
fault,  and  an  old  hound  of  reputation 
opened  but  once,  he  was  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  whole  cry ;  while  a  raw  dog, 
or  one  that  was  a  noted  "liar,"  might  have 
yelped  his  heart  out,  without  being  taken 
notice  of. 
The  hare  now,  after  having  squatted  tw0 


152 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


or  three  times,  and  been  put  up  again  as 
often,  came  still  nearer  to  the  place  where 
she  was  at  first  started.  The  dogs  pur- 
sued her,  and  these  were  followed  by  the 
jolly  Knight,  who  rode  upon  a  white  geld- 
ing, encompassed  by  his  tenants  and  ser- 
vants, and  cheering  his  hounds  with  all 
the  gaiety  of  five  and  twenty.  One  of  the 
•portsmen  rode  up  to  me,  and  told  me, 
that  he  was  sure  the  chase  was  almost  at 
an  end,  because  the  old  dogs,  which  had 
hitherto  lain  behind,  now  headed  the 

Eack.  The  fellow  was  in  the  right.  Our 
are  took  a  large  field  just  under  us  fol- 
lowed by  the  full  cry  "  in  view."  I  must 
confess  the  brightness  of  the  weather,  the 
cheerfulness  ot  every  thing  around  me, 
the  "  chiding  "  of  the  hounds,  which  was 
returned  upon  us  in  a  double  echo  from 
two  neighboring  hills,  with  the  hollowing 
of  the  sportsmen,  and  the  sounding  of  the 
horn,  lifted  my  spirits  into  a  most  lively 

Jleasure,  which  I  freely  indulged  because 
was  sure  it  was  innocent.  If  I  was 
under  any  concern,  it  was  on  the  account 
of  the  poor  hare,  that  was  now  quite 
spent,  and  almost  within  the  reach  of  her 
enemies ;  when  the  huntsman  getting 
forward  threw  down  his  pole  before  the 
dogs.  They  were  now  within  eight  yards 
of  that  game  which  they  had  been  pur- 
suing for  almost  as  many  hours ;  yet  on 
the  signal  before-mentioned  they  all  made 
a  sudden  stand,  and  though  they  con- 
tinued opening  as  much  as  before,  durst 
not  once  attempt  to  pass  beyond  the  pole. 
At  the  same  time  Sir  Eoger  rode  forward, 
and  alighting,  took  up  the  hare  in  his 
arms ;  which  he  soon  delivered  up  to  one 
of  his  servants  with  an  order,  if  she  could 
be  kept  alive,  to  let  her  go  in  his  great 
orchard  ;  where  it  seems  he  has  several  of 
these  prisoners  of  war,  who  live  together 
in  a  very  comfortable  captivity.  I  was 
highly  pleased  to  see  the  discipline  of  the 
pack,  and  the  good  nature  of  the  Knight, 
who  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  murder 
a  creature  that  had  given  him  so  much 
diversion. 

For  my  own  part  I  intend  to  hunt  twice 
a  week  during  my  stay  with  Sir  Roger  ; 
and  shall  prescribe  the  moderate  use  of 
this  exercise  to  all  my  country  friends,  as 
the  best  kind  of  physic  for  mending  a 
bad  constitution,  and  preserving  a  good 
on«. 

I  cannot  do  this  better,  than  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines  out  of  Mr.  Dryden  : 


The  first  physicians  by  debauch  were  madei 
Excess  began,  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 
By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  earned  their 

food; 
Toil  strung  the  nerves,  and  purified  the 

blood ; 

But  we  their  sons,  a  pampered  race  of  men, 
Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  and 

ten. 

Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought, 
Than  see  the  doctor  for  a  nauseous  draught. 
The  wise  for  cure  on  exercise  depend : 
God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend. 


CHAPTER  XI.— THE  COVERLEY  WITCH. 

Ipri  tibi  tomnia  fingunt. — VIEO. 

THERE  are  some  opinions  in  which  a 
man    should  stand  neuter,  without  en- 

§  aging  his  assent  to  one  side  or  the  other, 
uch  a  hovering  faith  as  this,  which  re- 
fuses to  settle  upon  any  determination,  is 
absolutely  necessary  in  a  mind  that  is 
careful  to  avoid  errors  and  prepossessions. 
When  the  arguments  press  equally  on  both 
sides  in  matters  that  are  indifferent  to  us, 
the  safest  method  is  to  give  up  ourselves 
to  neither. 

It  is  with  this  temper  of  mind  I  con- 
sider the  subject  of  witchcraft.  When  I 
hear  the  relations  that  are  made  from  all 
parts  of  the  world,  not  only  from  Norway 
and  Lapland,  from  the  East  and  West  In- 
dies, but  from  every  particular  nation  in 
Europe,  I  cannot  forbear  thinking  that 
there  is  such  an  intercourse  and  com- 
merce with  evil  spirits,  as  that  which  we 
express  by  the  name  of  witchcraft.  But 
when  I  consider  that  the  ignorant  and 
credulous  parts  of  the  world  abound  most 
in  these  relations,  and  that  the  persons 
among  us,  who  are  supposed  to  engage  in 
such  an  infernal  commerce,  are  people  of 
weak  understanding  and  crazed  imagina- 
tion, and  at  the  same  time  reflect  upon 
the  many  impostures  and  delusions  of 
this  nature  that  have  been  detected  in 
all  ages,  I  endeavor  to  suspend  my  belief 
till  I  hear  more  certain  accounts  than 
y  which  have  yet  come  to  my  know- 
ledge. In  short,  when  I  consider  the 
question,  whether  there  are  such  persons 
in  the  world  as  those  we  call  witches,  my 
mind  is  divided  between  the  two  opposite 
opinions ;  or  rather  (to  speak  my  thoughts 
freely)  I  believe  in  general  that  there  is 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


153 


and  has  been  such  a  thing  as  witchcraft ; 
but  at  the  same  time  can  give  no  credit 
to  any  particular  instance  of  it. 

I  am  engaged  in  this  speculation,  by 
some  occurrences  that  I  met  with  yester- 
day, which  I  shall  give  my  reader  an 
account  of  at  large.  As  I  was  walking 
with  my  friend  Sir  Roger  by  the  side  of 
one  of  his  woods,  an  old  woman  applied 
herself  to  me  for  my  charity.  Her  dress 
and  figure  put  me  in  mind  of  the  follow- 
ing description  in  Otway: 

In  a  close  lane  as  I  pursued  my  journey, 

I  spied  a  wrinkled  hag,  with  age  grown 
double, 

Picking  dry  sticks,  and  mumbling  to  her- 
self. 

Her  eyes  with  scalding  rheum  were  galled 
and  red  ; 

Cold  palsy  shook  her  head ;  her  hands 
seemed  withered  ; 

And  on  her  crooked  shoulders  had  she 
wrapped 

The  tattered  remnants  of  an  old  striped 
hanging, 

Which  served  to  keep  her  carcass  from  the 
cold  : 

So  there  was  nothing  of  a  piece  about  her. 

Her  lower  weeds  were  all  o'er  coarsely 
patched 

"With  different  colored  rags,  black,  red,  white, 
yellow, 

And  seemed  to  speak  variety  of  wretched- 
ness. 

As  I  was  musing  on  this  description, 
and  comparing  it  with  the  object  before 
me,  the  Knight  told  me,  that  this  very  old 
woman  had  the  reputation  of  a  witch  all 
over  the  country,  that  her  lips  were 
observed  to  be  always  in  motion,  and  that 
there  was  not  a  switch  about  her  house 
which  her  neighbors  did  not  believe  had 
carried  her  several  hundreds  of  miles.  If 
she  chanced  to  stumble,  they  always  found 
sticks  or  straws  that  lay  in  the  figure  of  a 
cross  before  her.  If  she  made  any  mis- 
take at  church,  and  cried  Amen  in  a 
wrong  place,  they  never  failed  to  conclude 
that  she  was  saying  her  prayers  backwards. 
There  was  not  a  maid  in  the  parish  that 
would  take  a  pin  of  her,  though  she  should 
offer  a  bag  of  money  with  it.  She  goes 
by  the  name  of  Moll  White,  and  has  made 
the  country  ring  with  several  imaginary 
exploits  which  are  palmed  upon  her.  If 
the  dairy  maic*  does  not  make  her  butter 


come  so  soon  as  she  should  have  it,  Moll 
White  ia  at  the  bottom  of  the  churn.  If 
a  horse  sweats  in  the  stable,  Moll  White 
has  been  upon  his  back.  If  a  hare  makes 
an  unexpected  escape  from  the  hounds, 
the  huntsman  curses  Moll  White.  Nay, 
(says  Sir  Roger)  I  have  known  the  master 
of  the  pack  upon  such  an  occasion,  send 
one  of  nis  servants  to  see  if  Moll  White 
has  been  out  that  morning. 

This  account  raised  my  curiosity  so  far, 
that  I  begged  my  friend  Sir  Roger  to  go 
with  me  into  her  hovel,  which  stood  in  a 
solitary  corner  under  the  side  of  the  wood. 
Upon  our  first  entering  Sir  Roger  winked 
to  me,  and  pointed  at  something  that  stood 
behind  the  door,  which  upon  looking  that 
way,  I  found  to  be  an  old  broom  staff. 
At  the  same  time  he  whispered  me  in  the 
ear  to  take  notice  of  a  tabby  cat  that  sat  in 
the  chimney  corner,  which,  as  the  old 
Knight  told  me,  lay  under  as  bad  a  report 
as  Moll  White  herself;  for  besides  that 
Moll  is  said  often  to  accompany  her  in  the 
same  shape,  the  cat  is  reported  to  have 
spoken  twice  or  thrice  in  her  life,  and  to 
have  played  several  pranks  above  th«< 
capacity  of  an  ordinary  cat. 

I  was  secretly  concerned  to  see  human 
nature  in  so  much  wretchedness  and  dia> 
grace,  but  at  the  same  time  could  not  for- 
bear smiling  to  hear  Sir  Roger,  who  is  a  lit- 
tle puzzled  about  the  old  woman,  advising 
her  as  a  justice  of  peace  to  avoid  all 
communication  with  the  devil,  and  never 
to  hurt  any  of  her  neighbor's  cattle.  We 
concluded  our  visit  with  a  bounty,  which, 
was  very  acceptable. 

In  our  return  home,  Sir  Roger  told  me, 
that  old  Moll  had  been  often  brought 
before  him  for  making  children  spit  pins, 
and  giving  maids  the  night-mare ;  and 
that  the  country  people  would  be  tossing 
her  into  a  pond  and  trying  experiments 
with  her  every  day,  if  it  was  not  for  him 
and  his  chaplain. 

I  have  since  found  upon  inquiry,  that 
Sir  Roger  was  several  times  staggered 
with  the  reports  that  had  been  brought 
him  concerning  this  old  woman,  and  would 
frequently  have  bound  her  over  to  the 
County  Sessions  had  not  his  chaplain 
with  much  ado  persuaded  him  to  the 
contrary. 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  m  this 
account,  because  I  hear  there  is  scarce  a 
village  in  England  that  has  not  a  Moll 
White  in  it.  When  an  old  woman  begins 


154 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


to  dote,  and  grow  chargeable  to  a  parish, 
she  is  generally  turned  into  a  witch,  and 
fills  the  whole  country  with  extravagant 
fancies,  imaginary  distempers  and  terrify- 
ing dreams.  In  the  meantime,  the  poor 
wretch  that  is  the  innocent  occasion  of  so 
many  evils  begins  to  be  frighted  at  her- 
self, and  sometimes  confesses  secret  com- 
merce and  familiarities  that  her  imagina- 
tion forms  in  a  delirious  old  age.  This 
frequently  cuts  off  charity  from  the  great- 
est objects  of  compassion,  and  inspires 
people  with  a  malevolence  towards  those 
poor  decrepit  parts  of  our  species,  in 
whom  human  nature  is  defaced  by  infirm- 
ity and  dotage. 


CHAPTER  XII. — A  COVERLEY  LOVE 
MATCH.1 

Hscret  lateri  lethalis  arundo. — VIBO. 

THIS  agreeable  seat  is  surrounded  with 
go  many  pleasing  walks  which  are  struck 
out  of  a  wood  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
house  stands,  that  one  can  hardly  ever  be 
weary  of  rambling  from  one  labyrinth  of 
delight  to  another.  To  one  used  to  live 
in  a  city  the  charms  of  the  country  are  so 
exquisite,  that  the  mind  is  lost  in  a  cer- 
tain transport  which  raises  us  above  ordi- 
nary life,  and  is  yet  not  strong  enough  to 
be  inconsistent  with  tranquillity.  This 
state  of  mind  was  I  in,  ravished  with  the 
murmur  of  waters,  the  whisper  of  breezes, 
the  singing  of  birds ;  and  whether  I  looked 
up  to  the  heavens,  down  to  the  earth,  or 
turned  on  the  prospects  around  me,  still 
struck  with  new  sense  of  pleasure;  when 
I  found  by  the  voice  of  my  friend,  who 
walked  by  me,  that  we  had  insensibly 
strolled  into  the  grove  sacred  to  the  widow. 
This  woman,  says  he,  is  of  all  others  the 
most  unintelligible ;  she  either  designs  to 
marry,  or  she  does  not.  What  is  the  most 
perplexing  of  all,  is,  that  she  doth  not 
either  say  to  her  lovers  she  has  any  reso- 
lution against  that  condition  of  life  in 
general,  or  that  she  banishes  them ;  but 
conscious  of  her  own  merit,  she  permits 
their  addresses  without  fear  of  any  ill 
consequence,  or  want  of  respect,  from  their 
rage  or  despair.  She  has  that  in  her  as- 
pect, against  which  it  is  impossible  to 
offend.  A  man  whose  thoughts  are  con- 


l  By  Stoele. 


stantly  built  upon  so  agreeable  an  object, 
must  be  excused  if  the  ordinary  occur- 
rences in  conversation  are  below  his  at- 
tention. I  call  her  indeed  perverse,  but, 
alas !  why  do  I  call  her  so  ?  Because  her 
superior  merit  is  such,  that  I  cannot  ap- 
proach her  without  awe,  that  my  heart  is 
checked  by  too  much  esteem :  I  am  angry 
that  her  charms  are  not  more  accessible, 
that  I  am  more  inclined  to  worship  than 
salute  her:  how  often  have  I  wished  her 
unhappy  that  I  might  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  serving  her?  and  how  often  trou- 
bled in  that  very  imagination,  at  giving 
her  the  pain  of  being  obliged?  Well,  I 
have  led  a  miserable  life  in  secret  upcn 
her  account;  but  fancy  she  would  have 
condescended  to  have  some  regard  for 
me,  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  watchful 
animal  her  confidant. 

Of  all  persons  under  the  sun  (continued 
he,  calling  me  by  my  name)  be  sure  to 
set  a  mark  upon  confidants :  they  are  of 
all  people  the  most  impertinent.  What 
is  most  pleasant  to  observe  in  them,  is, 
that  they  assume  to  themselves  the  merit 
of  the  persons  whom  they  have  in  their 
custody.  Orestilla  is  a  great  fortune,  and 
in  wonderful  danger  of  surprises,  there- 
fore full  of  suspicions  of  the  least  indiffer- 
ent thing,  particularly  careful  of  new  ac- 
quaintance, and  of  growing  too  familiar 
with  the  old.  Themista,  her  favorite- 
woman,  is  every  whit  as  careful  of  whom 
she  speaks  to,  and  what  she  says.  Let 
the  ward  be  a  beauty,  her  confidant  shall 
treat  you  with  an  air  of  distance ;  let  her 
be  a  fortune,  and  she  assumes  the  suspi- 
cious behavior  of  her  friend  and  patron- 
ess. 

Thus  it  is  that  very  many  of  our  un- 
married women  of  distinction  are  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  married,  except  the 
consideration  of  different  sexes.  They 
are  directly  under  the  conduct  of  their 
whisperer:  and  think  they  are  in  a  state 
of  freedom,  while  they  can  prate  with 
one  of  these  attendants  of  all  men  in 
general,  and  still  avoid  the  man  they 
most  like.  You  do  not  see  one  heiress  in 
a  hundred  whose  fate  does  not  turn  upon 
this  circumstance  of  choosing  a  confidant. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  lady  is  addressed  to, 
presented  and  flattered,  only  by  proxy,  in 
her  woman.  In  my  case,  how  is  it  possi- 
ble that 

Sir  Roger  was  proceeding  in  his  ha- 
rangue, when  he  heard  the  voice  of  one 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


155 


speaking  very  importunately,  and  re- 
peating these  words,  "What,  not  one 
smile?" 

We  followed  the  sound  till  we  came  to 
a  close  thicket,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
we  saw  a  young  woman  sitting  as  it  were 
in  a  personated  sullenness  just  over  a 
transparent  fountain.  Opposite  to  her 
stood  Mr.  William,  Sir  Roger's  master  of 
the  game.  The  knight  whispered  me, 
"  Hist,  these  are  lovers."  The  huntsman 
looking  earnestly  at  the  shadow  of  the 
young  maiden  in  the  stream,  ''  Oh  thou 
dear  picture,  if  thou  couldst  remain  there 
in  the  absence  of  that  fair  creature  whom 
you  represent  in  the  water,  how  willingly 
could  I  stand  here  satisfied  for  ever, 
without  troubling  my  dear  Betty  herself 
with  any  mention  of  her  unfortunate 
William,  whom  she  is  angry  with :  but 
alas !  when  she  pleases  to  be  gone,  thou 

wilt  also  vanish. Yet  let  me  talk  to 

thee  while  thou  dost  stay.  Tell  my  dear- 
est Betty  thou  dost  not  more  depend  upon 
her,  than  does  her  William  :  her  absence 
will  make  away  with  me  as  well  as  thee. 
If  she  offers  to  remove  thee,  I'll  jump 
into  these  waves  to  lay  hold  on  thee; 
herself,  her  own  dear  person,  I  must 
never  embrace  again. — - — Still  do  you 

hear  me  without  one  smile. It  is  too 

much  to  bear "  He  had  no  sooner 

spoke  these  words  but  he  made  an  offer 
of  throwing  himself  into  the  water:  at 
which  his  mistress  started  up,  and  at  the 
next  instant  he  jumped  across  the  foun- 
tain and  met  her  in  an  embrace.  She 
half  recovering  from  her  fright,  said  in 
the  most  charming  voice  imaginable,  and 
with  a  tone  of  complaint,  "  I  thought  how 
well  you  would  drown  yourself.  No,  no, 
you  won't  drown  yourself  till  you  have 
taken  your  leave  of  Susan  Holiday." 
The  huntsman,  with  a  tenderness  that 
spoke  the  most  passionate  love,  and  with 
his  cheek  close  to  hers,  whispered  the 
softest  vows  of  fidelity  in  her  ear,  and 
cried,  "  Don't,  my  dear,  believe  a  word 
Kate  Willow  says  ;  she  is  spiteful  and 
makes  stories,  because  she  loves  to  hear 
me  talk  to  herself  for  your  sake." 

Look  you  there,  quoth  Sir  Roger,  do 
you  see  there,  all  mischief  comes  from 
confidants!  But  let  us  not  interrupt 
them ;  the  maid  is  honest,  and  the  man 
dares  not  be  otherwise,  for  he  knows  I 
loved  her  father ;  I  will  interpose  in  this 
matter,  and  hasten  the  wedding.  Kate 


Willow  is  a  witty  mischievous  wench  in 
the  neighborhood,  who  was  a  beauty ; 
and  makes  me  hope  I  shall  see  the  per- 
verse widow  in  her  condition.  She  was 
so  flippant  with  her  answers  to  all  the 
honest  fellows  that  came  near  her,  and  so 
very  vain  of  her  beauty,  that  she  has 
valued  herself  upon  her  charms  till  they 
are  ceased.  She  therefore  now  makes  it 
her  business  to  prevent  other  young 
women  from  being  more  discreet  than  she 
was  herself:  however,  the  saucy  thing 
said  the  other  day  well  enough,  "Sir 
Roger  and  I  must  make  a  match,  for  we 
are  both  despised  by  those  we  loved : " 
the  hussy  has  a  great  deal  of  power 
wherever  she  comes,  and  has  her  share  of 
cunning. 

However,  when  I  reflect  upon  this 
woman,  I  do  not  know  whether  in  the 
main  I  am  the  worse  for  having  loved 
her :  whenever  she  is  recalled  to  my  im- 
agination my  youth  returns,  and  I  feel  a 
forgotten  warmth  in  my  veins.  This 
affliction  in  my  life  has  streaked  all  my 
conduct  with  a  softness,  of  which  I  should 
otherwise  have  been  incapable.  It  is, 
perhaps,  to  this  dear  image  in  my  heart 
owing,  that  I  am  apt  to  relent,  that  I 
easily  forgive,  and  that  many  desirable 
things  are  grown  into  my  temper,  which  I 
should  not  nave  arrived  at  by  better  mo- 
tives than  the  thought  of  being  one  day 
hers. 

I  am  pretty  well  satisfied  such  a  pas- 
sion as  I  have  had  is  never  well  cured ; 
and  between  you  and  me,  I  am  often  apt 
to  imagine  it  has  had  some  whimsical 
effect  upon  my  brain:  for  I  frequently 
find,  that  in  my  most  serious  discourse  I 
let  fall  some  comical  familiarity  of  speech 
or  odd  phrase  that  makes  the  company 
laugh ;  however,  I  cannot  but  allow  she 
is  a  most  excellent  woman.  When  she  is 
in  the  country  I  warrant  she  does  not  run 
into  dairies,  but  reads  upon  the  nature  of 
plants ;  but  has  a  glass  hive,  and  comes 
into  the  garden  out  of  books  to  see  them 
work,  and  observe  the  policies  of  their 
commonwealth.  She  understands  every- 
thing. I'd  give  ten  pounds  to  hear  her 
argue  with  my  friend  Sir  Andrew  Free- 
port  about  trade.  No,  no,  for  all  she 
looks  so  innocent  as  it  were,  take  my  word 
for  it  she  is  no  fool. 


156 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVEIiLEY. 


CHAPTER  XIII. — THE  COVERLEY    ETI- 
QUETTE. 

Vrbem  quam  dicunt  Romam,  Sfelibcee,  putavi 
Btultui  ego  huic  nostrse  similem. — VIES. 

THE  first  and  most  obvious  reflections 
which  arise  in  a  man  who  changes  the 
city  for  the  country,  are  upon  the  different 
manners  of  the  people  whom  he  meets 
with  in  those  two  different  scenes  of  life. 
By  manners  I  do  not  mean  morals,  but 
behavior  and  good-breeding  as  they 
show  themselves  in  the  town  and  in  the 
country. 

And  here,  in  the  first  place,  I  must  ob- 
serve a  very  great  revolution  that  has 
happened  in  this  article  of  good-breeding. 
Several  obliging  deferences,  condescen- 
sions and  submissions,  with  many  outward 
forms  and  ceremonies  that  accompany 
them,  were  first  of  all  brought  up  among 
the  politer  part  of  mankind,  who  lived  in 
courts  and  cities,  and  distinguished  them- 
selves from  the  rustic  part  of  the  species 
(who  on  all  occasions  acted  bluntly  and 
naturally)  by  such  a  mutual  complaisance 
and  intercourse  of  civilities.  These  forms 
of  conversation  by  degrees  multiplied  and 
grew  troublesome ;  the  modish  world 
found  too  great  a  constraint  in  them,  and 
have  therefore  thrown  most  of  them  aside. 
Conversation,  like  the  Romish  religion, 
waa  so  encumbered  with  show  and  cere- 
mony, that  it  stood  in  need  of  a  reforma- 
tion to  retrench  its  superfluities,  and  re- 
store it  to  its  natural  good  sense  and 
beauty.  At  present,  therefore,  an  uncon- 
strained carriage,  and  a  certain  openness 
of  behavior,  are  the  height  of  good- 
breeding.  The  fashionable  world  is  grown 
free  and  easy  ;  our  manners  sit  more  loose 
upon  us  :  nothing  is  so  modish  as  an 
agreeable  negligence.  In  a  word,  good- 
breeding  shows  itself  most,  where  to  an 
ordinary  eye  it  appears  the  least. 

If  after  this  we  look  on  the  people  of 
mode  in  the  country,  we  find  in  them  the 
manners  of  the  last  age.  They  have  no 
sooner  fetched  themselves  up  to  the 
fashion  of  the  polite  world,  but  the  town 
has  dropped  them,  and  are  nearer  to  the 
first  state  of  nature  than  to  those  refine- 
ments which  formerly  reigned  in  the 
court,  and  still  prevail  in  the  country. 
One  may  now  know  a  man  that  never 
conversed  in  the  world  by  his  excess  of 
pood  breeding.  A  polite  country  squire 
shall  make  you  as  many  bows  in  half  an 


hour,  as  would  serve  a  courtier  for  a  week. 
There  is  infinitely  more  to  do  about  place 
and  precedency  in  a  meeting  of  justices' 
wives,  than  in  an  assembly  of  duchesses. 

This  rural  politeness  is  very  trouble- 
some to  a  man  of  my  temper,  who  gene- 
rally take  the  chair  that  is  next  me,  and 
walk  first  or  last,  in  the  front  or  in  the 
rear,  as  chance  directs.  I  have  known 
my  friend  Sir  Roger's  dinner  almost  cold 
before  the  company  could  adjust  the  cere- 
monial, and  be  prevailed  upon  to  sit 
down,  and  have  heartily  pitied  my  old 
friend,  when  I  have  seen  him  forced  to 
pick  and  cull  his  guests,  as  they  sat  at  the 
several  parts  of  his  table,  that  he  might 
drink  their  healths  according  to  their  re- 
spective ranks  and  qualities.  Honest 
Will  Wimble,  who  I  should  have  thought 
had  been  altogether  uninfected  with  cere- 
mony, gives  me  abundance  of  trouble  in 
this  particular.  Though  he  has  been 
fishing  all  the  morning,  he  will  not  help 
himself  at  dinner  till  I  am  served.  When 
we  are  going  out  of  the  hall,  he  runs  be- 
hind me,  and  last  night,  as  we  were  walk- 
ing in  the  fields,  stopped  short  at  a  stile 
till  I  came  up  to  it ;  and  upon  my  making 
signs  to  him  to  get  over,  told  me,  with  a 
serious  smile,  that  sure  I  believed  they 
had  no  manners  in  the  country. 

There  has  happened  another  revolution 
in  the  point  of  good  breeding,  which  re- 
lates to  the  conversation  among  men  of 
mode,  and  which  I  cannot  but  look  upon 
as  very  extraordinary.  It  was  certainly 
one  of  the  first  distinctions  of  a  well-bred 
man,  to  express  every  thing  that  had  the 
most  remote  appearance  of  being  obscene, 
in  modest  terms  and  distant  phrases ; 
whilst  the  clown,  who  had  no  such 
delicacy  of  conception  and  expression, 
clothed  his  ideas  in  those  plain  homely 
terms  that  are  the  most  obvious  and 
natural.  This  kind  of  good  manners  was 
perhaps  carried  to  an  excess,  so  as  to 
make  conversation  too  stiff,  formal  and 
precise:  for  which  reason  (as  hypocrisy 
in  one  age  is  generally  succeeded  by 
atheism  in  another)  conversation  is  in  a 
great  measure  relapsed  into  the  first  ex- 
treme ;  so  that  at  present  several  of  our 
men  of  the  town,  and  particularly  those 
who  have  been  polished  in  France,  make 
use  of  the  most  coarse  uncivilized  words 
in  our  language,  and  utter  themselves 
often  in  such  a  manner  as  a  clown  would 
blush  to  hear. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


157 


This  infamous  piece  of  good  breeding, 
which  reigns  among  the  coxcombs  of  the 
town,  has  not  yet  made  its  way  into  the 
country;  and  as  it  is  impossible  for  such 
an  irrational  way  of  conversation  to  last 
long  among  a  people  that  make  any  pro- 
fession of  religion,  or  show  of  modesty,  if 
the  country  gentlemen  get  into  it  they 
will  certainly  be  left  in  the  lurch.  Their 
good  breeding  will  come  too  late  to  them, 
and  they  will  be  thought  a  parcel  of  lewd 
clowns,  while  they  fancy  themselves  talk- 
ing together  like  men  of  wit  and  pleasure. 

As  the  two  points  of  good  breeding 
which  I  have  hitherto  insisted  upon,  re- 
gard behavior  and  conversation,  there  is  a 
third  which  turns  upon  dress.  In  this 
too  the  country  are  very  much  behind- 
hand. The  rural  beaus  are  not  yet  got 
out  of  the  fashion  that  took  place  at  the 
time  of  the  revolution,  but  ride  about  the 
country  in  red  coats  and  laced  hats,  while 
the  women  in  many  parts  are  still  trying 
to  outvie  one  another  in  the  height  of 
their  head  dresses. 


CHAPTEB  XIV. — THE  COVERLEY  DTJCKS. 

Equidem  credo,  quia  tit  Dvrinitut  illit 
Ingenium. — VIEO. 

MY  friend  Sir  Roger  is  very  often  merry 
with  me  upon  my  passing  so  much  of  my 
time  among  his  poultry.  He  has  caught 
me  twice  or  thrice  looking  after  a  bird's 
nest,  and  several  times  sitting  an  hour  or 
two  together  near  an  hen  and  chickens. 
He  tells  me  he  believes  I  am  personally 
acquainted  with  every  fowl  about  his 
house;  calls  such  a  particular  cock  my 
favorite,  and  frequently  complains  that 
his  ducks  and  geese  have  more  of  iny  com- 
pany than  himself. 

I  must  confess  I  am  infinitely  delighted 
with  those  speculations  of  nature  which 
are  to  be  made  in  a  country  life ;  and  as 
my  reading  has  very  much  lain  among 
books  of  natural  history,  I  cannot  forbear 
recollecting  upon  this  occasion  the  several 
remarks  which  I  have  met  with  in  authors, 
and  comparing  them  with  what  falls  under 
my  own  observation :  The  arguments  for 
Providence  drawn  from  the  natural  history 
of  animals  being  in  my  opinion  demon- 
strative. 

It  is  astonishing  to  consider  the  different 


degrees  of  care  that  descend  from  the 
parent  to  the  young,  so  far  as  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  leaving  a  posterity. 
Some  creatures  cast  their  eggs  as  chance 
directs  them,  and  think  of  them  no  farther, 
as  insects  and  several  kinds  of  fish ;  others 
of  a  nicer  frame,  find  out  proper  beds  to 
deposit  them  in,  and  there  leave  them  ;  as 
the  serpent,  the  crocodile  and  the  ostrich : 
others  hatch  their  eggs  and  tend  the 
birth,  till  it  is  able  to  shift  for  itself. 

What  can  we  call  the  principle  which 
directs  every  different  kind  of  bird  to 
observe  a  particular  plan  in  the  structure 
of  its  nest,  and  direct  all  the  same  species 
to  work  after  the  same  model  ?  It  cannot 
be  imitation ;  for  though  you  hatch  a  crow 
under  a  hen,  and  never  let  it  see  any  of 
the  works  of  its  own  kind,  the  nest  it 
makes  shall  be  the  same  to  the  laying  of 
a  stick,  with  all  the  other  nests  of  the 
same  species.  It  cannot  be  reason ;  for 
were  animals  indued  with  it  to  as  great  a 
degree  as  man,  their  buildings  would  be 
as  different  as  ours,  according  to  the 
different  conveniences  that  they  would 
propose  to  themselves. 

Is  it  not  remarkable,  that  the  same 
temper  of  weather,  which  raises  this  geni- 
al warmth  in  animals,  should  cover  the 
trees  with  leaves,  and  the  fields  with 
grass,  for  their  security  and  concealment, 
and  produce  such  infinite  swarms  of  in- 
sects for  the  support  and  sustenance  of 
their  respective  broods  ? 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  love  of  the 
parent  should  be  so  violent  while  it  lasts, 
and  that  it  should  last  no  longer  than  is 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the 
young? 

With  what  caution  does  the  hen  pro- 
vide herself  a  nest  in  places  unfrequented, 
and  free  from  noise  and  disturbance? 
When  she  has  laid  her  eggs  in  such  a 
manner,  that  she  can  cover  them,  what 
care  does  she  take  in  turning  them  fre- 
quently, that  all  parts  may  partake  of  the 
vital  warmth  ?  When  she  leaves  them  to 
provide  for  her  necessary  sustenance,  how 
punctually  does  she  return  before  they 
have  time  to  cool,  and  become  incapable 
of  producing  an  animal?  In  the  summer 
you  see  her  giving  herself  greater  free- 
doms, and  quitting  her  care  for  above  two 
hours  together ;  but  in  winter,  when  the 
rigor  of  the  season  would  chill  the  prin- 
ciples of  life,  and  destroy  the  young  ojie, 
she  grows  more  assiduous  in  her  attend- 


153 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


ance,  and  stays  away  but  half  the  time. 
When  the  birth  approaches,  with  how 
much  nicety  and  attention  does  she  help 
the  chick  to  break  its  prison  ?  Not  to  take 
notice  of  her  covering  it  from  the  injuries 
of  the  weather,  providing  it  proper  nour- 
ishment, and  teaching  it  to  help  itself; 
nor  to  mention  her  forsaking  the  nest,  if 
after  the  usual  time  of  reckoning  the 
young  one  does  not  make  its  appearance. 
A  chemical  operation  could  not  be  fol- 
lowed with  greater  art  or  diligence,  than 
is  seen  in  the  hatching  of  a  chick ;  though 
there  are  many  other  birds  that  show  an 
infinitely  greater  sagacity  in  all  the  fore- 
mentioned  particulars. 

But  at  the  same  time  the  hen,  that  has 
all  this  seeming  ingenuity  (which  is  in- 
deed absolutely  necessary  for  the  propa- 
gation of  the  species),  considered  in  other 
respects,  is  without  the  least  glimmerings 
of  thought  or  common  sense.  She  mis- 
takes a  piece  of  chalk  for  an  egg,  and  sits 
upon  it  in  the  same  manner :  she  is  in- 
sensible of  any  increase  or  diminution  in 
the  number  of  those  she  lays:  she  does 
not  distinguish  between  her  own  and  those 
of  another  species ;  and  when  the  birth 
appears  of  never  so  different  a  bird,  will 
cherish  it  for  her  own.  In  all  these  cir- 
cumstances which  do  not  carry  an  im- 
mediate regard  to  the  subsistence  of  her- 
self or  her  species,  she  is  a  very  idiot. 

There  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  any  thing 
more  mysterious  in  nature  than  this  in- 
stinct in  animals,  which  thus  rises  above 
reason,  and  falls  infinitely  short  of  it.  It 
cannot  be  accounted  for  by  any  properties 
in  matter,  and  at  the  same  time  works 
after  so  odd  a  manner,  that  one  cannot 
think  it  the  faculty  of  an  intellectual 
being.  For  my  own  part,  I  look  upon  it 
as  upon  the  principle  of  gravitation  in 
bodies,  which  is  not  to  be  explained  by 
any  known  qualities  inherent  in  the 
bodies  themselves,  nor  from  any  laws  of 
mechanism,  but,  according  to  the  best 
notions  of  the  greatest  philosophers,  is  an 
immediate  impression  from  the  first  mover 
and  the  divine  energy  acting  in  the  crea- 
tures. 

As  I  was  walking  this  morning  in  the 
great  yard  that  belongs  to  my  friend's 
country-house,  I  was  wonderfully  pleased 
to  see  the  different  workings  of  instinct  in 
a  hen  followed  by  a  brood  of  ducks.  The 
young,  upon  the  sight  of  a  pond,  imme- 
diately ran  into  it;  while  the  step-mother, 


with  all  imaginable  anxiety,  hovered 
about  the  borders  of  it,  to  call  them  out 
of  an  element  that  appeared  to  her  so 
dangerous  and  destructive.  As  the  dif- 
ferent principle  which  acted  in  these  dif- 
ferent animals  cannot  be  termed  reason, 
so  when  we  call  it  instinct,  we  mean 
something  we  have  no  knowledge  of.  To 
me,  as  I  hinted  in  my  last  paper,  it  seems 
the  immediate  direction  of  providence,  and 
such  an  operation  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
as  that  which  determines  all  the  portions 
of  matter  to  their  proper  centres.  A 
modern  philosopher,  quoted  by  Monsieur 
Bayle  in  his  learned  Dissertation  on  the 
Souls  of  Brutes,  delivers  the  same  opinion, 
though  in  a  bolder  form  of  words,  where 
he  says,  Deus  est  Anima  Brutorum,  God 
himself  is  the  Soul  of  Brutes.  Who  can 
tell  what  to  call  that  seeming  sagacity  in 
animals,  which  directs  them  to  such  food 
as  is  proper  for  them,  and  makes  them 
naturally  avoid  whatever  is  noxious  or 
unwholesome  ?  Tully  has  observed,  that 
a  lamb  no  sooner  falls  from  its  mother, 
but  immediately  and  of  his  own  accord 
applies  itself  to  the  teat.  Dampier,  in  his 
Travels,  tells  us,  that  when  seamen  are 
thrown  upon  any  of  the  unknown  coasts 
of  America,  they  never  venture  upon  the 
fruit  of  any  tree,  how  tempting  soever  it 
may  appear,  unless  they  observe  it  is 
marked  with  the  pecking  of  birds ;  but 
fall  on  without  any  fear  or  apprehension 
where  the  birds  have  been  before  them. 


CHAPTER  XV. — SIR  ROGER  ON  THE  BENCH. 

Comes  jucwndut  in  via  pro  vehiculo  est. — PUBL. 

A  MAN'S  first  care  should  be  to  avoid 
the  reproaches  of  his  own  heart ;  his  next, 
to  escape  the  censures  of  the  world :  If 
the  last  interferes  with  the  former,  it 
ought  to  be  entirely  neglected ;  but  other- 
wise there  cannot  be  a  greater  satisfaction 
to  an  honest  mind,  than  to  see  those  ap- 
probations which  it  gives  itself  seconded 
by  the  applauses  of  the  public :  A  man  is 
more  sure  of  his  conduct,  when  the  verdict 
which  he  passes  upon  his  own  behavior 
is  thus  warranted  and  confirmed  by  the 
opinion  of  all  that  know  him. 

My  worthy  friend  Sir  Roger  is  one  of 
those  who  is  not  only  at  peace  within 
himself,  but  beloved  and  esteemed  by  all 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


159 


about  him.  He  receives  a  suitable  tribute 
for  his  universal  benevolence  to  mankind, 
in  the  returns  of  affection  and  good  will, 
which  are  paid  him  by  every  one  that 
lives  within  his  neighborhood.  I  lately 
met  with  two  or  three  odd  instances  of 
that  general  respect  which  is  shown  to 
the  good  old  Knight.  He  would  needs 
carry  Will  Wimble  and  myself  with  him 
to  the  county  assizes :  As  we  were  upon 
the  road  Will  Wimble  joined  a  couple  of 
plain  men  who  rid  before  us,  and  con- 
versed with  them  for  some  time ;  during 
which  my  friend  Sir  Roger  acquainted  me 
with  their  characters. 

The  first  of  them,  says  he,  that  has  a 
spaniel  by  his  side,  is  a  yeoman  of  about 
an  hundred  pounds  a  year,  an  honest 
man :  He  is  just  within  the  game  act,1 
and  qualified  to  kill  an  hare  or  a  pheas- 
ant :  He  knocks  down  a  dinner  with  his 
gun  twice  or  thrice  a  week ;  and  by  that 
means  lives  much  cheaper  than  those  who 
have  not  so  good  an  estate  as  himself. 
He  would  be  a  good  neighbor  if  he  did 
not  destroy  so  many  partridges :  in  short, 
he  is  a  very  sensible  man ;  shoots  flying ; 
and  has  been  several  times  foreman  of  the 
petty  jury. 

The  other  that  rides  along  with  him  is 
Tom  Touchy,  a  fellow  famous  for  taking 
the  law  of  every  body.  There  is  not  one 
in  the  town  where  he  lives  that  he  has 
not  sued  at  a  quarter  sessions.  The  rogue 
had  once  the  impudence  to  go  to  law  with 
the  widow.  His  head  is  full  of  costs, 
damages  and  ejectments :  He  plagued  a 
couple  of  honest  gentlemen  so  long  for  a 
trespass  in  breaking  one  of  his  hedges,  till 
he  was  forced  to  sell  the  ground  it  enclosed 
to  defray  the  charges  of  the  prosecution . 


1  The  3d  of  James  the  First,  chap.  44,  clause  v.  pro- 
Tides  that  if  any  person  who  has  not  real  property  pro- 
ducing forty  pounds  per  ann. :  or  who  has  not  two 
hundred  pounds  worth  of  goods  and  chattels,  shall  pre- 
sume to  shoot  game :  "  Then  any  person  having  lands, 
tenements,  or  hereditaments,  of  the  clear  yearly  value 
of  one  hundred  pounds  a  year,  may  take  from  the  person 
or  possession  of  such  malefactor  or  malefactors  and  to 
his  own  use  for  ever  keep,  such  guns,  bows,  cross-bows, 
buckstalls,  engine-hays,  nets,  ferrets,  and  coney  dogs, 
Ac."  This  amiable  enactment,  which  permitted  a  one- 
hundred-pound-freeholder  to  become  in  his  single  per- 
son, accuser,  witness,  judge,  jury,  and  executioner;  and 
which  made  an  equally  respectable  but  poorer  man  who 
•hot  a  hare  a  "  malefactor,"  was  the  law  of  the  land 
eTen  so  lately  as  1827. 


His  father  left  him  fourscore  pounds  a 
year;  but  he  has  cast  and  been  cast  so 
often,  that  he  is  not  now  worth  thirty.  I 
suppose  he  is  going  upon  the  old  business 
of  the  willow  tree. 

As  Sir  Roger  was  giving' me  this  account 
of  Tom  Touchy,  Will  Wimble  and  his 
two  companions  stopped  short  till  we 
came  up  to  them.  After  having  paid  their 
respects  to  Sir  Roger,  Will  told  him  that 
Mr.  Touchy  and  he  must  appeal  to  him 
upon  a  dispute  that  arose  between  them. 
Will  it  seems  had  been  giving  his  fellow- 
travellers  an  account  of  his  angling  one 
day  in  such  a  hole  ;  when  Tom  Touchy, 
instead  of  hearing  out  his  story  told  him 
that  Mr.  such  a  one,  if  he  pleased,  might 
take  the  law  of  him  for  fishing  in  that 
part  of  the  river.  My  friend  Sir  Roger 
heard  them  both,  upon  a  round  trot;  and 
after  having  paused  some  time  told  them, 
with  an  air  of  a  man  who  would  not  give 
his  judgment  rashly,  that  "much  might 
be  said  on  both  sides."  They  were  neither 
of  them  dissatisfied  with  the  Knight's  de- 
termination, because  neither  of  them 
found  himself  in  the  wrong  by  it :  upon 
which  we  made  the  best  of  our  way  to  the 
assizes. 

The  court  was  sat  before  Sir  Roger 
came ;  but  notwithstanding  all  the  justices 
had  taken  their  places  upon  the  bench,  they 
made  room  for  the  old  Knight  at  the  head 
of  them;  who  for  his  reputation  in  the 
country  took  occasion  to  whisper  in  the 
judge's  ear,  "  That  he  was  glad  his  lordship 
had  met  with  so  much  good  weather  in  his 
circuit."  I  was  listening  to  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  court  with  much  attention,  and 
infinitely  pleased  with  that  great  appear- 
ance and  solemnity  which  so  properly 
accompanies  such  a  public  administration 
of  our  laws ;  when,  after  about  an  hour's 
sitting,  I  observed  to  my  great  surprise,  in 
the  midst  of  a  trial,  that  my  friend  Sir  Ro- 
ger was  getting  up  to  speak.  I  was  in  some 
pain  for  him,  till  I  found  he  had  acquitted 
himself  of  two  or  three  sentences,  with  a 
look  of  much  business  and  great  intre- 
pidity. 

Upon  his  first  rising  the  court  was 
hushed,  and  a  general  whisper  ran  among 
the  country  people  that  Sir  Roger  was  up. 
The  speech  he  made  was  so  little  to  the 
purpose,  that  I  shall  not  trouble  my 
readers  with  an  account  of  it ;  and  I  be- 
lieve was  not  so  much  designed  by  the 
Knight  himself  to  inform  the  court,  as  to 


160 


SIE  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


give  him  a  figure  in  my  eye,  and  keep  up 
his  credit  in  the  country. 

I  was  highly  delighted  when  the  court 
rose,  to  see  the  gentlemen  of  the  country 
gathering  about  my  old  friend,  and  striv- 
ing who  should  compliment  him  most ;  at 
the  same  time  that  the  ordinary  people 
gazed  upon  him  from  a  distance,  not  a 
little  admiring  his  courage,  that  was  not 
afraid  to  speak  to  the  judge. 

In  our  return  home  we  met  with  a  very 
odd  accident ;  which  I  cannot  forbear  re- 
lating, because  it  shows  how  desirous  all 
who  know  Sir  Eoger  are  of  giving  him 
marks  of  their  esteem.  When  we  were 
arrived  upon  the  verge  of  his  estate,  we 
stopped  at  a  little  inn  to  rest  ourselves 
and  our  horses.  The  man  of  the  house 
had  it  seems  been  formerly  a  servant  in 
the  Knight's  family  ;  and  to  do  honor  to 
his  old  master,  had  some  time  since,  un- 
known to  Sir  Roger,  put  him  up  in  a 
sign-post  before  the  door;  so  that  the 
Knight's  Head  had  hung  out  upon  the 
road  about  a  week  before  he  himself 
knew  anything  of  the  matter.  As  soon 
as  Sir  Eoger  was  acquainted  with  it,  find- 
ing that  his  servant's  indiscretion  pro- 
ceeded wholly  from  affection  and  good- 
will, he  only  told  him  that  he  had  made 
him  too  high  a  compliment ;  and  when 
the  fellow  seemed  to  think  that  could 
hardly  be,  added  with  a  more  decisive 
look,  that  it  was  too  great  an  honor  for 
any  man  under  a  duke;  but  told  him  at 
the  same  time,  that  it  might  be  altered 
with  a  very  fewtouches,  and  that  he  him- 
self would  be  at  the  charge  of  it.  Accord- 
ingly they  got  a  painter  by  the  Knight's 
directions  to  add  a  pair  of  whiskers  to 
the  face,  and  by  a  little  aggravation  of 
the  features  to  change  it  into  the  Sara- 
cen's Head.  I  should  not  have  known 
this  story  had  not  the  innkeeper,  on  Sir 
Roger's  alighting,  told  him  in  my  hear- 
ing, that  his  honor's  head  was  brought 
back  last  night  with  the  alterations  that 
he  had  ordered  to  be  made  in  it.  Upon 
this  my  friend  with  his  usual  cheerfulness 
related  the  particulars  above-mentioned, 
and  ordered  the  head  to  be  brought  into 
the  room.  I  could  not  forbear  discover- 
ing greater  expressions  of  mirth  than 
ordinary  upon  the  appearance  of  this 
monstrous  face,  under  which,  notwith- 
standing it  was  made  to  frown  and  stare 
in  a  most  extraordinary  manner.  I  could 
still  discover  a  distant  resemblance  of  my 


old  friend.  Sir  Roger,  upon  seeing  me 
laugh,  desired  me  to  tell  him  truly  if  I 
thought  it  possible  for  people  to  know 
him  in  that  disguise.  I  at  first  kept  my 
usual  silence :  but  upon  the  Knight's  con- 
juring  me  to  tell  him  whether  it  was  not 
still  more  like  himself  than  a  Saracen,  I 
composed  my  countenance  in  the  best 
manner  I  could,  and  replied,  that  much 
might  be  said  on  both  sides. 

These  several  adventures,  with  the 
Knight's  behavior  in  them,  gave  me  as 
pleasant  a  day  as  ever  I  met  with  in  any 
of  my  travels. 


CHAPTER  XVI. — A    STORY  OP  AN    HEIR. 

Doctrina  sed  vim  promovet  insitam, 
Rectique  culttif  pectora  robormit : 
Utcunqiie  defecere  mores, 
DedecormU  bene  nata  culpse. — HOB. 

As  I  was  yesterday  taking  the  air  with 
my  friend  Sir  Roger,  we  were  met  by  a 
fresh-colored  ruddy  young  man  who  rid 
by  us  full  speed,  with  a  couple  of  servants 
behind  him.  Upon  my  inquiry  who  he 
was,  Sir  Roger  told  me  that  he  was  a 
young  gentleman  of  a  considerable  estate, 
who  had  been  educated  by  a  tender 
mother  that  lived  not  many  miles  from 
the  place  where  we  were.  She  is  a  very 
good  lady,  says  my  friend,  but  took  so 
much  care  of  her  son's  health  that  she 
has  made  him  good  for  nothing.  She 
quickly  found  that  reading  was  bad  for 
his  eyes,  and  that  writing  made  his  head 
ache.  He  was  let  loose  among  the  woods 
as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  ride  on  horse- 
back, or  to  carry  a  gun  upon  his  shoul- 
der. To  be  brief,  I  found,  by  my 
friend's  account  of  him,  that  he  had  got  a 
great  stock  of  health,  but  nothing  else ; 
and  that  if  it  were  a  man's  business  only 
to  live,  there  would  not  be  a  more  accom- 
plished young  fellow  in  the  whole  coun- 
try. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  since  my  residing  in 
these  parts  I  have  seen  and  heard  innu- 
merable instances  of  young  heirs  and  el- 
der brothers  who  either  from  their  own 
reflecting  upon  the  estates  they  are  born 
to,  and  therefore  thinking  all  other  ac- 
complishments unnecessary,  or  from  hear- 
ing these  notions  frequently  inculcated  to 
them  by  the  flattery  of  their  servants  and 
domestics,  or  from  the  same  foolish 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


161 


thought  prevailing  in  those  who  have  the 
care  of  their  education,  are  of  no  manner 
of  use  but  to  keep  up  their  families,  and 
transmit  their  land  and  houses  in  a  line 
to  posterity. 

This  makes  me  often  think  on  a  story  I 
have  heard  of  two  friends,  which  I  shall 
give  my  reader  at  large,  under  feigned 
names.  The  moral  of  it  may,  I  hope,  be 
useful,  though  there  are  some  circumstan- 
ces which  make  it  rather  appear  like  a 
novel  than  a  true  story. 

Eudoxus  and  Leontine  began  the  world 
with  small  estates.  They  were  both  of 
them  men  of  good  sense  and  great  virtue. 
They  prosecuted  their  studies  together  in 
their  earlier  years,  and  entered  into  such 
a  friendship  as  lasted  to  the  end  of  their 
lives.  Eudoxus,  at  his  first  setting  out  in 
the  world,  threw  himself  into  a  court, 
where  by  his  natural  endowments  and  his 
acquired  abilities  he  made  his  way  from 
one  post  to  another,  till  at  length  he  had 
raised  a  very  considerable  fortune.  Leon- 
tine  on  the  contrary  sought  all  opportuni- 
ties of  improving  his  mind  by  study,  con- 
versation, and  travel.  He  was  not  only 
accquainted  with  all  the  sciences,  but  with 
the  most  eminent  professors  of  them 
throughout  Europe.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  the  interest  of  its  princes,  with  the 
customs  and  fashions  of  their  courts,  and 
could  scarce  meet  with  the  name  of  an 
extraordinary  person  in  the  Gazette  whom 
he  had  not  either  talked  to  or  seen.  In 
short,  he  had  so  well  mixed  and  digested 
his  knowledge  of  men  and  books,  that  he 
made  one  of  the  most  accomplished  per- 
sons of  his  age.  During  the  whole  course 
of  his  studies  and  travels  he  kept  up  a 
punctual  correspondence  with  Eudoxus, 
who  often  made  himself  acceptable  to  the 
principal  men  about  court  by  the  intelli- 
gence he  received  from  Leontine.  When 
they  were  both  turned  of  forty  (an  age  in 
which,  according  to  Mr.  Cowley,  there  is 
no  dallying  with  life)  they  determined, 
pursuant  to  the  resolution  they  had  taken 
in  the  beginning  of  their  lives,  to  retire 
and  pass  the  remainder  of  their  days  in 
the  country.  In  order  to  this,  they  both 
of  them  married  about  the  same  time. 
Leontine,  with  his  own  and  his  wife's  for- 
tune, bought  a  farm  of  three  hundred  a 
year,  which  lay  within  the  neighborhood 
of  his  friend  Eudoxus,  who  had  purchased 
an  estate  of  as  many  thousands.  They 
were  both  of  them  fathers  about  the  same 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


time,  Eudoxus  having  a  son  born  to  him, 
and  Leontine  a  daughter ;  but  to  the  un- 
speakable grief  of  the  latter,  his  young 
wife  (in  whom  all  his  happiness  was 
wrapped  up)  died  in  a  few  days  after  the 
birth  of  her  daughter.  His  affliction 
would  have  been  insupportable,  had  not 
he  been  comforted  by  the  daily  visits  and 
conversations  of  his  friend.  As  they  were 
one  day  talking  together  with  their  usual 
intimacy,  Leontine,  considering  how  in^ 
capable  he  was  of  giving  his  daughter  a 
proper  education  in  his  own  house,  and 
Eudoxus,  reflecting  on  the  ordinary  be- 
havior of  a  sou,  who  knows  himself  to  be 
the  heir  of  a  great  estate,  they  both  agreed 
upon  an  exchange  of  children,  namely 
that  the  boy  should  be  bred  up  with  Leon- 
tine  as  his  son,  and  that  the  girl  should 
live  with  Eudoxus  as  his  daughter,  till 
they  were  each  of  them  arrived  at  years 
of  discretion.  The  wife  of  Eudoxus, 
knowing  that  her  son  could  not  be  so  ad- 
vantageously brought  up  an  under  the 
care  of  Leontine,  and  considering  at  the 
same  time  that  he  would  be  perpetually 
under  her  own  eye,  was  by  degrees  pre- 
vailed upon  to  fall  in  with  the  project. 
She  therefore  took  Leonilla,  for  that  was 
the  name  of  the  girl,  and  educated  her  as 
her  own  daughter.  The  two  friends  on 
each  side  had  wrought  themselves  to  such 
an  habitual  tenderness  for  the  children  who 
were  under  their  direction,  that  each  of 
them  had  the  real  passion  of  a  father, 
where  the  title  was  but  imaginary.  Florio, 
the  name  of  the  young  heir  that  lived 
with  Leontine,  though  he  had  all  the 
duty  and  affection  imaginable  for  his  sup- 
posed parent,  was.taught  to  rejoice  at  the 
sight  of  Eudoxus,  who  visited  his  friend 
very  frequently,  and  was  dictated  by  his 
natural  affection,  as  well  as  by  the  rules 
of  prudence,  to  make  himself  esteemed 
and  beloved  by  Florio.  The  boy  was  now 
old  enough  to  know  his  supposed  father's 
circumstances,  and  that  therefore  he  was 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world  by  his  own 
industry.  This  consideration  grew 
stronger  in  him  every  day,  and  produced 
so  good  an  effect,  that  he  applied  himself 
with  more  than  ordinary  attention  to  the 
pursuit  of  everything  which  Leontine 
recommended  to  him.  His  natural  abili- 
ties, which  were  very  good,  assisted  by 
the  directions  of  so  excellent  a  counsel- 
lor, enabled  him  to  make  a  quicker  pro- 
gress than  ordinary  through  all  the  part* 


162 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


of  his  education.  Before  he  was  twenty 
years  of  age,  having  finished  his  studies 
and  exercises  with  great  applause,  he  was 
removed  from  the  university  to  the  Inns 
of  Court,  where  there  are  very  few  that 
make  themselves  considerable  proficients 
in  the  studies  of  the  place,  who  know  they 
shall  arrive  at  great  estates  without  them. 
This  was  not  Florio's  case  ;  he  found  that 
three  hundred  a  year  was  but  a  poor  estate 
for  Leontine  and  himself  to  live  upon,  so 
that  he  studied  without  intermission  till 
he  gained  a  very  good  insight  into  the 
constitution  and  laws  of  his  country. 

I  should  have  told  my  reader,  that 
whilst  Florio  lived  at  the  house  of  his 
foster-father  he  was  always  an  acceptable 
guest  in  the  family  of  Eudoxus,  where  he 
became  acquainted  with  Leonilla  from 
her  infancy.  His  acquaintance  with  her 
by  degrees  grew  into  love,  which  in  a 
mind  trained  up  in  all  the  sentiments  of 
honor  and  virtue  became  a  very  uneasy 
passion.  He  despaired  of  gaining  an 
heiress  of  so  great  a  fortune,  and  would 
rather  have  died  than  attempted  it  by  any 
indirect  methods.  Leonilla,  who  was  a 
woman  of  the  greatest  beauty  joined  with 
the  greatest  modesty,  entertained  at  the 
same  time  a  secret  passion  for  Florio,  but 
conducted  herself  with  so  much  prudence 
that  she  never  gave  him  the  least  intima- 
tion of  it.  Florio  was  now  engaged  in  all 
those  arts  and  improvements  that  are 
proper  to  raise  a  man's  private  fortune, 
and  give  him  a  figure  in  his  country,  but 
secretly  tormented  with  that  passion 
which  burns  with  the  greatest  fury  in  a 
virtuous  and  noble  heart,  when  he  re- 
ceived a  summons  from  Leontine  to  re- 
pair to  him  in  the  country  the  next  day. 
For  it  seems  Eudoxus  was  so  filled  with 
the  report  of  his  son's  reputation,  that  he 
could  no  longer  withhold  making  himself 
known  to  him.  The  morning  after  his 
arrival  at  the  house  of  his  supposed 
father,  Leontine  told  him  that  Eudoxus 
had  something  of  great  importance  to 
communicate  to  him ;  upon  which  the 
good  man  embraced  him  and  wept. 
Florio  was  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  great 
house  that  stood  in  his  neighborhood, 
but  Eudoxus  took  him  by  the  hand,  after 
the  first  salutes  were  over,  and  conducted 
him  into  his  closet.  He  there  opened  to 
him  the  whole  secret  of  his  parentage 
and  education,  concluding  after  this  man- 
ner: "I  have  no  other  way  left  of  ac- 


knowledging my  gratitude  to  Leontine, 
than  by  marrying  you  to  his  daughter. 
He  shall  not  lose  the  pleasure  of  being 
your  father  by  the  discovery  I  have  made 
to  you.  Leonilla  too  shall  be  still  my 
daughter;  her  filial  piety,  though  mis- 
placed, has  been  so  exemplary  that  it  de- 
serves the  greatest  reward  I  can  confer 
upon  it.  You  shall  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  a  great  estate  fall  to  you,  which 
you  would  have  lost  the  relish  of  had  you 
known  yourself  born  to  it.  Continue  only 
to  deserve  it  in  the  same  manner  you  did 
before  you  were  possessed  of  it.  I  have 
left  your  mother  in  the  next  room.  Her 
heart  yearns  towards  you.  She  is  making 
the  same  discoveries  to  Leonilla  which  I 
have  made  to  yourself." 

Florio  was  so  overwhelmed  with  this 
profusion  of  happiness,  that  he  was  not 
able  to  make  a  reply,  but  threw  himself 
down  at  his  father's  feet,  and  amidst  a 
flood  of  tears,  kissed  and  embraced  his 
knees,  asking  his  blessing,  and  expressing 
in  dumb  show  those  sentiments  of  love, 
duty  and  gratitude  that  were  too  big  for 
utterance.  To  conclude,  the  happy  pair 
were  married,  and  half  Eudoxus's  estate 
settled  upon  them.  Leontine  and  Eu- 
doxus passed  the  remainder  of  their  lives 
together  ;  and  received  in  the  dutiful  and 
affectionate  behavior  of  Florio  and  Le- 
onilla the  just  recompense,  as  well  as  the 
natural  effects,  of  that  care  which  they 
had  bestowed  upon  them  in  their  educa- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  XVII. — SIR  ROGER  AND  PARTY 
SPIRIT. 

Ne,  pueri,  ne  tanta  animis  assvescite  bella  : 

Neu  patrix  validat  in  viscera  vertite  vires. — VIEO. 

MY  worthy  friend,  Sir  Eoger,  when 
we  are  talking  of  the  malice  of  parties, 
very  frequently  tells  us  an  accident  that 
happened  to  him  when  he  was  a  school- 
boy, which  was  a  time  when  the  feuds 
ran  high  between  the  Bound-heads  and 
Cavaliers.  This  worthy  knight,  being 
then  but  a  stripling,  had  occasion  to  in- 
quire which  was  the  way  to  St.  Anne's 
lane,  upon  which  the  person  whom  he 
spoke  to,  instead  of  answering  his  ques- 
tion, called  him  a  young  popish  cur,  and 
asked  him  who  had  made  Anne  a  saint  I 
The  boy,  being  in  some  confusion,  in- 
quired of  the  next  he  met,  which  was  the 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


163 


way  to  Anne's  lane;  but  was  called  a 
prick-eared  cur  for  his  pains,  and  instead 
of  being  shown  the  way,  was  told  that 
she  had  been  a  Saint  before  he  was  born, 
and  would  be  one  after  he  was  hanged. 
Upon  this,  says  Sir  Roger,  I  did  not 
think  fit  to  repeat  my  former  question, 
but  going  into  every  lane  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, asked  what  they  called  the  name 
of  that  lane.  By  which  ingenious  arti- 
fice he  found  out  the  place  inquired  after, 
without  giving  offence  to  any  party.  Sir 
Roger  generally  closes  this  narrative  with 
reflections  on  the  mischief  that  parties 
do  in  the  country ;  how  they  spoil  good 
neighborhood,  and  make  honest  gentle- 
men hate  one  another  ;  besides  that,  they 
manifestly  tend  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
land-tax,  and  the  destruction  of  the 
game. 

There  cannot  a  greater  judgment  befall 
a  country  than  such  a  dreadful  spirit  of 
division  as  rends  a  government  into  two 
distinct  people,  and  makes  them  greater 
strangers  and  more  averse  to  one  another, 
than  if  they  were  actually  two  different 
nations.  The  effects  of  such  a  division 
are  pernicious  to  the  last  degree,  not  only 
with  regard  to  those  advantages  which 
they  give  the  common  enemy,  but  to  those 
private  evils  which  they  produce  in  the 
heart  of  almost  every  particular  person. 
This  influence  is  very  fatal  both  to  men's 
morals  and  their  understandings  ;  it  sinks 
the  virtue  of  a  nation,  and  not  only  so, 
but  destroys  even  common  sense. 

A  furious  party  spirit,  when  it  rages  in 
its  full  violence,  exerts  itself  in  civil  war 
and  bloodshed ;  and  when  it  is  under  its 
greatest  restraints  naturally  breaks  out  in 
falsehood,  detraction,  calumny,  and  a 
partial  administration  of  justice.  In  a 
word,  it  fills  a  nation  with  spleen  and 
rancor,  and  extinguishes  all  the  seeds  of 
good-nature,  compassion,  and  humanity. 

I  remember  to  have  read  in  Diodorus 
Siculus  an  account  of  a  very  active  little 
animal,  which  I  think  he  calls  the  ichneu- 
mon, that  makes  it  the  whole  business  of 
hia  life  to  break  the  eggs  of  the  crocodile, 
which  he  is  always  in  search  after.  This 
instinct  is  the  more  remarkable,  because 
the  ichneumon  never  feeds  upon  the  eggs 
he  has  broken,  nor  any  other  way  finds 
his  account  in  them.  Were  it  not  for  the 
incessant  labors  of  this  industrious  animal, 
Egypt,  says  the  historian,  would  be  over- 
run with  crocodiles;  for  the  Egyptians 


are  so  far  from  destroying  those  pernicious 
creatures,  that  they  worship  them  as  gods. 

If  we  look  into  the  behavior  of  ordi- 
nary partisans,  we  shall  find  them  far  from 
resembling  this  disinterested  animal ;  and 
rather  acting  after  the  example  of  the 
wild  Tartars,  who  are  ambitious  of  de- 
stroying a  man  of  the  most  extraordinary 
parts  and  accomplishments,  as  thinking 
that  upon  his  decease  the  same  talents, 
whatever  post  they  qualified  him  for, 
enter  of  course  into  his  destroyer. 

As  in  the  whole  train  of  my  specu- 
lations, I  have  endeavored  as  much  as  I 
am  able  to  extinguish  that  pernicious 
spirit  of  passion  and  prejudice,  which 
rages  with  the  same  violence  in  all  par- 
ties, I  am  still  the  more  desirous  of  doing 
some  good  in  this  particular,  because  I 
observe  that  the  spirit  of  party  reigns 
more  in  the  country  than  in  the  town.  It 
here  contracts  a  kind  of  brutality  and 
rustic  fierceness,  to  which  men  of  a  politer 
conversation  are  wholly  strangers.  It  ex- 
tends itself  even  to  the  return  of  the  bow 
and  the  hat ;  and  at  the  same  time  that 
the  heads  of  parties  preserve  towards  one 
another  an  outward  show  of  good-breed- 
ing, and  keep  up  a  perpetual  intercourse 
of  civilities,  their  tools  that  are  dispersed 
in  these  outlying  parts  will  not  so  much 
as  mingle  together  at  a  cock-match.  This 
humor  fills  the  country  with  several  peri- 
odical meetings  of  whig  jockies  and  tory 
fox-hunters ;  not  to  mention  the  innu- 
merable curses,  frowns,  and  whispers  it 
produces  at  a  quarter-sessions. 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  observed 
in  any  of  my  former  papers,  that  my 
friends  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and  Sir  An- 
drew Freeport  are  of  different  principles, 
the  first  of  them  inclined  to  the  landed  and 
the  other  to  the  monied  interest.  This 
humor  is  so  moderate  in  each  of  them, 
that  it  proceeds  no  farther  than  to  an 
agreeable  raillery,  which  very  often  diverts 
the  rest  of  the  club.  I  find  however  that 
the  Knight  is  a  much  stronger  tory  in  the 
country  than  in  town,  which,  as  he  has 
told  me  in  my  ear,  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  the  keeping  up  his  interest.  In  all 
our  journey  from  London  to  his  house  we 
did  not  so  much  as  bait  at  a  whig-inn ;  or 
if  by  chance  the  coachman  stopped  at  a 
wrong  place,  one  of  Sir  Roger's  servants 
would  ride  up  to  his  master  full  speed, 
and  whisper  to  him  that  the  master  of  the 
house  was  against  such  an  one  in  the  last 


164 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


election.  This  often  betrayed  us  into 
hard  beds  and  bad  cheer;  for  we  were 
not  so  inquisitive  about  the  inn  as  the 
inn  keeper ;  and,  provided  our  landlord's 
principles  were  sound,  did  not  take  any 
notice  of  the  staleness  of  his  provisions. 
This  I  found  still  the  more  inconvenient, 
because  the  better  the  host  was,  the  worse 
generally  were  his  accommodations ;  the 
fellow  knowing  very  well  that  those  who 
were  his  friends  would  take  up  with 
coarse  diet  and  an  hard  lodging.  For 
these  reasons,  all  the  while  I  was  upon 
the  road  I  dreaded  entering  into  an  house 
of  any  one  that  Sir  Roger  had  applauded 
for  an  honest  man. 

Since  my  stay  at  Sir  Roger's  in  the 
country,  I  daily  find  more  instances  of 
this  narrow  party  humor.  Being  upon  a 
bowling-green  at  a  neighboring  market- 
town  the  other  day  (for  that  is  the  place 
where  the  gentlemen  of  one  side  meet 
once  a  week),  I  observed  a  stranger  among 
them  of  a  better  presence  and  genteeler 
behavior  than  ordinary;  but  was  much 
surprised  that  notwithstanding  he  was 
a  very  fair  better,  nobody  would  take 
him  up.  But  upon  inquiry  I  found,  that 
he  was  one  who  had  given  a  disagreeable 
vote  in  a  former  parliament,  for  which 
reason  there  was  not  a  man  upon  that 
bowling-green  who  would  have  so  much 
correspondence  with  him  as  to  win  his 
money  of  him. 

Among  other  instances  of  this  nature, 
I  must  not  omit  one  which  concerns  my- 
self. Will  Wimble  was  the  other  day 
relating  several  strange  stories  that  he 
had  picked  up,  nobody  knows  where,  of  a 
certain  great  man  ;  and  upon  my  staring 
at  him,  as  one  that  was  surprised  to  hear 
such  things  in  the  country,  which  had 
never  been  so  much  as  whispered  in  the 
town,  Will  stopped  short  in  the  thread  of 
his  discourse,  and  after  dinner  asked  my 
friend,  Sir^Roger,  in  his  ear,  if  he  was 
sure  that  I  was  not  a  fanatic. 

It  gives  me  a  serious  concern  to  see  such 
a  spirit  of  dissension  in  the  country  ;  not 
only  as  it  destroys  virtue  and  common 
sense,  and  renders  us  in  a  manner  bar- 
barians towards  one  another,  but  as  it 
perpetuates  our  animosities,  widens  our 
breaches,  and  transmits  our  present  pas- 
sions and  prejudices  to  our  posterity. 
For  my  own  part,  I  am  sometimes  afraid 
that  I  discover  the  seeds  of  a  civil  war  in 
these  our  divisions ;  and  therefore  cannot 


but  bewail,  as  in  their  first  principles,  the 
miseries  and  calamities  of  our  children. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. — ON  GIPSIES   IN   GENE- 
RAL. 

Semperque  recentet 
Convectarejuvat  prsedas,  tt  vivere  rapto. — VIBO. 

As  I  was  yesterday  riding  out  in  the 
fields  with  my  friend  Sir  Roger,  we  saw 
at  a  little  distance  from  us  a  troop  of 
gipsies.  Upon  the  first  discovery  of  them, 
my  friend  was  in  some  doubt  whether  he 
should  not  exert  the  justice  of  the  peace 
upon  such  a  band  of  lawless  vagrants; 
but  not  having  his  clerk  with  him,  who  is 
a  necessary  counsellor  on  these  occasions, 
and  fearing  that  his  poultry  might  fare 
the  worse  for  it,  he  let  the  thought  drop  : 
but  at  the  same  time  gave  me  a  particular 
account  of  the  mischiefs  they  do  in  the 
country,  in  stealing  people's  goods  and 
spoiling  their  servants.  If  a  stray  piece 
of  linen  hangs  upon  an  hedge,  says  Sir 
Roger,  they  are  sure  to  have  it ;  if  the 
hog  loses  his  way  in  the  fields,  it  is  ten  to 
one  but  he  becomes  their  prey ;  our 
geese  cannot  live  in  peace  for  them  ;  if  a 
man  prosecutes  them  with  severity,  his 
henroost  is  sure  to  pay  for  it :  they  gene- 
rally straggle  into  these  parts  about  this 
time  of  the  year;  and  set  the  heads  of 
our  servant-maids  so  agog  for  husbands, 
that  we  do  not  expect  to  have  any  busi- 
ness done  as  it  should  be  whilst  they  are 
in  the  country.  I  have  an  honest  dairy- 
maid who  crosses  their  hands  with  a  piece 
of  silver  every  summer,  and  never  fails 
being  promised  the  handsomest  young 
fellow  in  the  parish  for  her  pains.  Your 
friend  the  butler  has  been  fool  enough  to 
be  seduced  by  them;  and,  though  he  is 
sure  to  lose  a  knife,  a  fork,  or  a  spoon 
every  time  his  fortune  is  told  him,  gene- 
rally shuts  himself  up  in  the  pantry  with 
an  old  gipsy  for  above  half  an  hour  once 
in  a  twelvemonth.  Sweet-hearts  are  the 
things  they  live  upon,  which  they  bestow 
very  plentifully  upon  all  those  that  apply 
themselves  to  them.  You  see  now  and 
then  some  handsome  young  jades  among 
them :  the  sluts  have  very  often  white 
teeth  and  black  eyes. 

Sir    Roger  observing  that  I  listened 
with  great  attention  to  his  account  of  a 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


169 


people  who  were  so  entirely  new  to  me, 
told  me,  that  if  I  would  they  should  tell 
us  our  fortunes.  As  I  was  very  well 
pleased  with  the  Knight's  proposal,  we 
rid  up  and  communicated  our  hands  to 
them. 

A  Cassandra  of  the  crew,  after  having 
examined  my  lines  very  diligently,  told 
me,  that  I  loved  a  pretty  maid  in  a  corner, 
that  I  was  a  woman's  man,  with  some 
other  particulars  which  I  do  not  think 
proper  to  relate.  My  friend  Sir  Roger 
alighted  from  his  horse,  and  exposing  his 
palm  to  two  or  three  that  stood  by  him, 
they  crumpled  it  into  all  shapes,  and  dili- 
gently scanned  every  wrinkle  that  could 
be  made  in  it ;  when  one  of  them,  who 
was  older  and  more  sunburnt  than  the 
rest,  told  him,  that  he  had  a  widow  in 
his  line  of  life :  upon  which  the  Knight 
cried,  Go,  go,  you  are  an  idle  baggage  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  smiled  upon  me. 
The  gipsy  finding  he  was  not  displeased 
in  his  heart,  told  him,  after  a  farther  in- 
quiry into  his  hand,  that  his  true-love 
was  constant,  and  that  she  should  dream 
of  him  to-night :  my  old  friend  cried 
Pish,  and  bid  her  go  on.  The  gipsy  told 
him  that  he  was  a  bachelor,  but  would 
not  be  so  long ;  and  that  he  was  dearer  to 
somebody  than  he  thought :  The  Knight 
still  repeated  she  was  an  idle  baggage, 
and  bid  her  go  on.  Ah,  Master,  says  the 
gipsy,  that  roguish  leer  of  yours  makes  a 
pretty  woman's  heart  ache ;  you  ha'n't 
that  simper  about  the  mouth  for  no- 
thing. 

The  uncouth  gibberish  with  which  all 
this  was  uttered  like  the  darkness  of  an 
oracle,  made  us  the  more  attentive  to  it. 
To  be  short,  the  Knight  left  the  money 
with  her  that  he  had  crossed  her  hand 
with,  and  got  up  again  on  his  horse. 

As  we  were  riding  away,  Sir  Roger  told 
me,  that  he  knew  several  sensible  people 
who  believed  these  gipsies  now  and  then 
foretold  very  strange  things  ;  and  for  half 
an  hour  together  appeared  more  jocund 
than  ordinary.  In  the  height  of  his  good 
humor,  meeting  a  common  beggar  upon 
the  road  who  was  no  conjurer,  as  he  went 
to  relieve  him  he  found  his  pocket  was 
picked :  that  being  a  kind  of  palmistry 
at  which  this  race  of  vermin  are  very  dex- 
terous. 


CHAPTER  XIX.— A  SUMMONS  TO  LONDON. 

Ipsse  rurtum  concedite  sylvsc. — ViBO. 

IT  is  usual  for  a  man  who  loves  country 
sports  to  preserve  the  game  in  his  own 
grounds,  and  divert  himself  upon  those 
that  belong  to  his  neighbor.  My  friend 
Sir  Roger  generally  goes  two  or  three 
miles  from  his  house,  and  gets  into  the 
frontiers  of  his  estate,  before  he  beats 
about  in  search  of  a  hare  or  partridge,  on 
purpose  to  spare  his  own  fields,  where  he 
is  always  sure  of  finding  diversion  when 
the  worst  comes  to  the  worst.  By  this 
means  the  breed  about  his  house  has  time 
to  increase  and  multiply,  besides  that  the 
sport  is  the  more  agreeable  where  the 
game  is  the  harder  to  come  at,  and  where 
it  does  not  lie  so  thick  as  to  produce  any 
perplexity  or  confusion  in  the  pursuit. 
For  these  reasons  the  country  gentleman 
like  the  fox,  seldom  preys  near  his  OWL. 
home. 

In  the  same  manner  I  have  made  f, 
month's  excursion  out  of  the  town,  whicn 
is  the  great  field  of  game  for  sportsmen  of 
my  species,  to  try  my  fortune  in  the  coun- 
try, where  I  have  started  several  subjects, 
and  hunted  them  down,  with  some  pleas- 
ure to  myself,  and  I  hope  to  others.  I 
am  here  forced  to  use  a  great  deal  of  dili- 
gence before  I  can  spring  anything  to  my 
mind,  whereas  in  town,  whilst  I  am  fol- 
lowing one  character,  it  is  ten  to  one  but 
I  am  crossed  in  my  way  by  another,  and 
put  up  such  a  variety  of  odd  creatures  in 
both  sexes,  that  they  foil  the  scent  of  one 
another,  and  puzzle  the  chase.  My  great- 
est difficulty  in  the  country  is  to  find 
sport,  and  in  town  to  choose  it.  In  the 
mean  time,  as  I  have  given  a  whole 
month's  rest  to  the  cities  of  London  and 
Westminster,  I  promise  myself  abundance 
of  new  game  upom  my  return  thither. 

It  is  indeed  high  time  for  me  to  leave 
the  country,  since  I  find  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood begin  to  grow  very  inquisitive 
after  my  name  and  character :  my  love  of 
solitude,  taciturnity,  and  particular  way 
of  life,  having  raised  a  great  curiosity  in 
all  these  parts. 

The  notions  which  have  been  framed 
of  me  are  various ;  some  look  upon  me  aa 
very  proud,  some  as  very  modest,  and 
some  as  very  melancholy.  Will  Wimble, 
as  my  friend  the  butler  tells  me,  observ- 
ing me  very  much  alone,  and  extremely 


166 


SIR  EOGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


silent  when  I  am  in  company,  is  afraid  I 
have  killed  a  man.  The  country  people 
seem  to  suspect  me  for  a  conjurer;  and 
uome  of  them  hearing  of  the  visit  which  I 
made  to  Moll  White,  will  needs  have  it 
that  Sir  Roger  has  brought  down  a  cun- 
ning man  with  him,  to  cure  the  old 
woman,  and  free  the  country  from  her 
charms.  So  that  the  character  which  I  go 
under  in  part  of  the  neighborhood,  is  what 
they  here  call  a  white  witch. 

A  justice  of  peace,  who  lives  about  five 
miles  off,  and  is  not  of  Sir  Roger's  party, 
has  it  seems  said  twice  or  thrice  at  his 
table,  that  he  wishes  Sir  Roger  does  not 
harbor  a  Jesuit  in  his  house,  and  that  he 
thinks  the  gentlemen  of  the  country 
would  do  very  well  to  make  me  give  some 
account  of  myself. 

On  the  other  side,  some  of  Sir  Roger's 
friends  are  afraid  the  old  Knight  is  im- 
posed upon  by  a  designing  fellow,  and  as 
they  have  heard  that  he  converses  very 
promiscuously,  when  he  is  in  town,  do 
not  know  but  that  he  has  brought  down 
with  him  some  discarded  whig,  that  is 
sullen  and  says  nothing  because  he  is  out 
of  place. 

Such  is  the  variety  of  opinions  which 
are  here  entertained  of  me,  so  that  I  pass 
among  some  for  a  disaffected  person,  and 
among  others  for  a  popish  priest,  among 
some  for  a  wizard,  and  among  others  for  a 
murderer ;  and  all  this  for  no  other  rea- 
son, that  I  can  imagine,  but  because  I  do 
not  hoot  and  hollow  and  make  a  noise.  It 
is  true  my  friend  Sir  Roger  tells  them, 
That  it  is  my  way,  and  that  I  am  only  a 
philosopher;  but  this  will  not  satisfy 
them.  They  think  there  is  more  in  me 
than  he  discovers,  and  that  I  do  not  hold 
my  tongue  for  nothing. 

For  these  and  other  reasons  I  shall  set 
out  for  London  to-morrow,  having  found 
by  experience  that  the  country  is  not  a 
place  for  a  person  of  my  temper,  who 
does  not  love  jollity,  and  what  they  call 
good  neighborhood.  A  man  that  is  out 
of  humor  when  an  unexpected  guest 
breaks  in  upon  him,  and  does  not  care  for 
sacrificing  an  afternoon  to  every  chance- 
eomer ;  that  will  be  the  master  of  his  own 
time,  and  the  pursuer  of  his  own  inclina- 
tions, makes  but  a  very  unsociable  figure 
in  this  kind  of  life.  I  shall  therefore  re- 
tire into  the  town,  if  I  may  make  use  of 
that  phrase,  and  get  into  the  crowd  again 
as  fast  as  I  can  in  order  to  be  alone.  I 


can  there  raise  what  speculations  I  please 
upon  others  without  being  observed  my- 
self, and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  all  the 
advantages  of  company  with  all  the  privi- 
leges of  solitude.  In  the  meanwhile,  to 
finish  the  month  and  conclude  these  my 
rural  speculations,  I  shall  here  insert  a  let- 
ter from  my  friend  Will  Honeycomb,  who 
has  not  lived  a  month  for  these  forty 
years  out  of  the  smoke  of  London,  and 
rallies  me  after  his  way  upon  my  country 
life. 
"  Dear  Spec, 

I  suppose  this  letter  will  find  thee 
picking  of  daisies,  or  smelling  to  a  lock 
of  hay,  or  passing  away  thy  time  in  some 
innocent  country  diversion  of  the  like 
nature.  I  have,  however,  orders  from 
the  club  to  summon  thee  up  to  town, 
being  all  of  us  cursedly  afraid  thou  wilt 
not  be  able  to  relish  our  company,  after 
thy  conversations  with  Moll  White  and 
Will  Wimble.  Pr'ythee  don't  send  us 
any  more  stories  of  a  cock  and  a  bull, 
nor  frighten  the  town  with  spirits  and 
witches.  Thy  speculations  begin  to  smell 
confoundedly  of  woods  and  meadows.  If 
thou  dost  not  come  up  quickly,  we  shall 
conclude  that  thou  art  in  love  with  one 
of  Sir  Roger's  dairy-maids.  Service  to 
the  Knight.  Sir  Andrew  is  grown  the 
cock  of  the  club  since  he  left  us,  and  if 
he  don't  return  quickly  will  make  every 
mother's  son  of  us  commonwealth's  men. 
Dear  Spec,  Thine  eternally, 

WILL  HONEYCOMB." 


CHAPTER    XX. — FAREWELL   TO    COVER- 
LEY  HALL.1 

Qui,  aut  Temput  quid  postulet  non  videt,  out  plura  loqui- 
tur, aut  st  oslenlat,  aut  eorum  quibutcum  etl  raiionem  non 
hubet,  it  ineptut  ette  diciiur.— TULL. 

HAVING  notified  to  my  good  friend  Sir 
Roger  that  I  should  set  out  for  London 
the  next  day,  his  horses  were  ready  at 
the  appointed  hour  in  the  evening  ;  and 
attended  by  one  of  his  grooms,  I  arrived 
at  the  county  town  at  twilight,  in  order 
to  be  ready  for  the  stage-coach  the  day 
following.  As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the 
inn,  the  servant  who  waited  upon  me 
inquired  of  the  chamberlain  in  my  hear- 


By  Steele. 


Sift  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


167 


ing  what  company  he  had  for  the  coach? 
The  fellow  answered,  Mrs.  Betty  Arable 
the  great  fortune,  and  the  widow  her 
mother ;  a  recruiting  officer  (who  took  a 
place  because  they  were  to  go)  ;  young 
squire  Quickset,  her  cousin,  (that  her 
mother  wished  her  to  be  married  to) ; 
Ephraim  the  Quaker,  her  guardian  ;  and 
a  gentleman  that  had  studied  himself 
dumb  from  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley's.  I 
observed  by  what  he  said  of  myself,  that 
according  to  his  office  he  dealt  much  in 
intelligence ;  and  doubted  not  but  there 
was  some  foundation  for  his  reports  for 
the  rest  of  the  company,  as  well  as  for 
the  whimsical  account  he  gave  of  me. 

The  next  morning  at  day-break  we 
were  all  called ;  and  I,  who  know  my 
own  natural  shyness,  and  endeavor  to  be 
as  little  liable  to  be  disputed  with  as  pos- 
sible, dressed  immediately,  that  I  might 
make  no  one  wait.  The  first  preparation 
for  our  setting  out  was,  that  the  Captain's 
half-pike  was  placed  near  the  coachman, 
and  a  drum  behind  the  coach.  In  the 
mean  time  the  drummer,  the  Captain's 
equipage,  was  very  loud,  that  none  of  the 
Captain's  things  should  be  placed  so  as  to 
be  spoiled;  upon  which  his  cloak-bag 
was  fixed  in  the  seat  of  the  coach :  and 
the  Captain  himself,  according  to  a  fre- 
quent, though  invidious  behavior  of 
military  men,  ordered  his  men  to  look 
sharp,  that  none  but  one  of  the  ladies 
should  have  the  place  he  had  taken 
fronting  to  the  coach-box. 

We  were  in  some  little  time  fixed  in 
our  seats,  and  sat  with  that  dislike  which 
people  not  too  good-natured  usually  con- 
ceive of  each  other  at  first  sight.  The 
coach  jumbled  us  insensibly  into  some 
sort  of  familiarity :  and  we  had  not 
moved  above  two  miles,  when  the  widow 
asked  the  captain  what  success  he  had 
in  his  recruiting?  The  officer,  with  a 
frankness  that  he  believed  very  graceful, 
told  her,  "  that  indeed  he  had  but  very 
little  luck,  and  had  suffered  much  by 
desertion,  therefore  should  be  glad  to  end 
his  warfare  in  the  service  of  her  or  her 
fair  daughter.  In  a  word,"  continued  he, 
"  I  am  a  soldier,  and  to  be  plain  is  my 
character:  you  see  me,  madam,  young, 
sound,  and  impudent ;  take  me  yourself, 
widow,  or  give  me  to  her,  I  will  be 
wholly  at  your  disposal,  I  am  a  soldier  of 
fortune,  ha ! "  This  was  followed  by  a 
vain  laugh  of  his  own,  and  a  deep  silence 


of  all  the  rest  of  the  company.    I  had 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  fall  fast  asleep, 
which  I  did  with  all   speed.     "  Come," 
said  he,  "  resolve  upon  it,  we  will  make  a 
wedding  at  the  next  town  :  we  will  wake 
this  pleasant  companion,  who  is  fallen 
asleep,  to  be  the  brideman,  and  "  (giving 
the  Quaker  a  clap  on  the  knee)  he  con- 
cluded, "  this  sly  saint,  who,  I'll  warrant, 
understands  what's  what  as  well  as  you  or 
I,  widow,  shall  give  the  bride  as  father." 
The   Quaker,  who  happened  to  be  a 
man  of  smartness,  answered,  "  my  friend, 
I  take  it  in  good   part,  that  thou  hast 
given  me  the  authority  of  a  father  over 
this  comely  and  virtuous  child ;  and  I 
must  assure  thee,  that  if  I  have  the  giving 
her,  I  shall  not  bestow  her  on  thee.    Thy 
mirth,  friend,  savoreth  of  folly :  Thou  art 
a  person  of  a  light  mind  :  thy  drum  is  a 
type  of  thee,  it  soundeth  because  it  is 
empty.     Verily  it  is  not  from  thy  fulness, 
but  thy  emptiness  that  thou  hast  spoken 
this  day,     Friend,  friend,  we  have  hired 
this  coach  in  partnership  with  thee,  to 
carry  us  to  the  great  city  ;  we  cannot  go 
any  other  way.      This  worthy    mother 
must  hear  thee  if  thou  wilt  needs  utter 
thy  follies  ;  we  cannot  help  it,  Friend,  I 
say :    if  thou  wilt,  we  must  hear  thee : 
But  if  thou  wert  a  man  of  understanding, 
thou  wouldst  not  take  advantage  of  thy 
courageous  countenance  to  abash  us  chil- 
dren of  peace.    Thou  art,  thou  sayest,  a 
soldier  ;  give  quarter  to  us,  we  cannot  re- 
sist thee.    Why  didst  thou  fleer  at  our 
friend,  who  feigned  himself  asleep  ?    He 
said  nothing ;  Tjut  how  dost  thou  know 
what  he  containeth?    If  thou  speakest 
improper  things  in  the  hearing  of  this 
virtuous  young  virgin,  consider  it  as  an 
outrage  against  a  distressed  person  that 
cannot  get  from  thee :  To  speak   indis- 
creetly what  we  are  obliged  to  hear,  by 
being  hasped  up  with  thee  in  this  public 
vehicle,  is  in  some  degree  assaulting  on 
the  high  road." 

Here  Ephraim  paused,  and  the  captain 
with  an  happy  and  uncommon  impudence 
(which  can  be  convicted  and  support  it- 
self at  the  same  time)  cries,  Faith, 
Friend,  I  thank  thee ;  I  should  have  been 
a  little  impertinent  if  thou  hadst  not  rep- 
rimanded me.  Come,  thou  art,  I  see,  8 
smoky  old  fellow,  and  I'll  be  very  or- 
derly the  ensuing  part  of  my  journey.  I 
was  going  to  give  myself  airs,  but,  ladies, 
I  beg  pardon. 


108 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVrfRLEY. 


The  captain  was  so  little  out  of  humor, 
and  our  company  was  so  far  from  being 
soured  by  this  little  ruffle,  that  Ephraim 
and  he  took  a  particular  delight  in  being 
agreeable  to  each  other  for  the  future ; 
and  assumed  their  different  provinces  in 
the  conduct  of  the  company.  Our  reckon- 
ings, apartments,  and  accommodation, 
fell  under  Ephraim:  and  the  captain 
looked  to  all  disputes  on  the  road,  as  the 
good  behavior  of  our  coachman,  and  the 
right  we  had  of  taking  place  as  going  to 
London  of  all  vehicles  coming  from 
thence. 

The  occurrences  we  met  with  were  or- 
dinary, and  very  little  happened  which 
could  entertain  by  the  relation  of  them : 
But  when  I  considered  the  company  we 
were  in,  I  took  it  for  no  small  good-for- 
tune that  the  whole  journey  was  not  spent 
in  impertinences,  which  to  the  one  part 
of  us  might  be  an  entertainment,  to  the 
other  a  suffering. 

What  therefore  Ephraim  said  when  we 
were  almost  arrived  at  London,  had  to 
me  an  air  not  only  of  good  understanding 
but  good  breeding.  Upon  the  young 
lady  expressing  her  satisfaction  in  the 
journey,  and  declaring  how  delightful  it 
had  been  to  her,  Ephraim  delivered  him- 
self as  follows :  "  There  is  no  ordinary  part 
of  human  life  which  expresseth  so  much 
a  good  mind,  and  a  right  inward  man,  as 
his  behavior  upon  meeting  with  strang- 
ers, especially  such  as  may  seem  the  most 
unsuitable  companions  to  him:  such  a 
man,  when  he  falleth  in  the  way  with 
persons  of  simplicity  and  innocence,  how- 
ever knowing  he  may  be  in  the  ways  of 
men,  will  not  vaunt  himself  thereof ;  but 
will  the  rather  hide  his  superiority  to 
them,  that  he  may  not  be  painful  unto 
them.  My  good  friend  (continued  he, 
turning  to  the  officer),  thee  and  I  are  to 
part  by  and  by,  and  peradventure  we  may 
never  meet  again :  but  be  advised  by 
a  plain  man  ;  modes  and  apparel  are  but 
trifles  to  the  real  man,  therefore  do  not 
think  such  a  man  as  thyself  terrible  for 
thy  garb,  nor  such  a  one  as  me  contempt- 
ible for  mine.  When  two  such  as  thee 
and  I  meet,  with  affections  as  we  ought 
to  have  towards  each  other,  thou  shouldst 
rejoice  to  see  my  peaceable  demeanor,  and 
I  should  be  glad  to  see  thy  strength  and 
ability  to  protect  me  in  it." 


CHAPTER  XXI. — SIE  ROGER  IN  LONDO1C. 

JEvo  rariisima  nottro 
Simplicity. — OVID. 

I  "WAS  this  morning  surprised  with  a 
great  knocking  at  the  door,  when  my 
landlady's  daughter  came  up  to  me,  and 
told  me,  that  there  was  a  man  below  de- 
sired to  speak  with  me.  Upon  my  asking 
her  who  it  was,  she  told  me  it  was  a  very 
grave  elderly  person,  but  that  she  did  not 
know  his  name.  I  immediately  went 
down  to  him,  and  found  him  to  be  the 
coachman  of  my  worthy  friend  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley.  He  told  me  that  his  master 
came  to  town  last  night,  and  would  be 
glad  to  take  a  turn  with  me  in  Gray's-Inn 
Walks.  As  I  was  wondering  in  myself 
what  had  brought  Sir  Roger  to  town,  not 
having  lately  received  any  letter  from 
him,  he  told  me  that  his  master  was  come 
up  to  get  a  sight  of  Prince  Eugene,  and 
that  he  desired  I  would  immediately  meet 
him. 

I  was  not  a  little  pleased  with  the  curi- 
osity of  the  old  Knight,  though  I  did  not 
much  wonder  at  it,  having  heard  him  say 
more  than  once  in  private  discourse,  that 
he  looked  upon  Prince  Eugenic  (for  so 
the  Knight  always  called  him)  to  be  a 
greater  man  than  Scanderbeg. 

I  was  no  sooner  come  into  Gray's-Inn 
Walks,  but  I  heard  my  friend  upon  the 
terrace  hemming  twice  or  thrice  to  him- 
self with  great  vigor,  for  he  loves  to  clear 
his  pipes  in  good  air  (to  make  use  of  his 
own  phrase),  and  is  not  a  little  pleased 
with  any  one  who  takes  notice  of  the 
strength  which  he  still  exerts  in  his 
morning  hemms. 

I  was  touched  with  a  secret  joy  at  the 
sight  of  the  good  old  man,  who  before  he 
saw  me  was  engaged  in  conversation  with 
a  beggar-man  that  had  asked  an  alms  of 
him.  I  could  hear  my  friend  chide  him 
for  not  finding  out  some  work ;  but  at  the 
same  time  saw  him  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  give  him  six-pence. 

Our  salutations  were  very  hearty  on 
both  sides,  consisting  of  many  kind  shakes 
of  the  hand,  and  several  affectionate  looks 
which  we  cast  upon  one  another.  After 
which  the  Knight  told  me  my  good  friend 
his  chaplain  was  very  well,  and  much  at 
my  service,  and  that  the  Sunday  before  he 
bad  made  a  most  incomparable  sermon 
out  of  Doctor  Barrow.  I  have  left,  say» 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


169 


he,  all  my  affairs  in  his  hands,  and  being 
willing  to  lay  an  obligation  upon  him, 
have  deposited  with  him  thirty  marks,  to 
be  distributed  among  his  poor  parish- 
ioners. 

He  then  proceeded  to  acquaint  me  with 
the  welfare  of  Will  Wimble.  Upon  which 
he  put  his  hand  into  his  fob  and  pre- 
sented me  in  his  name  with  a  tobacco- 
stopper,  telling  me  that  Will  had  been 
busy  all  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  in 
turning  great  quantities  of  them ;  and  that 
he  made  a  present  of  one  to  every  gentle- 
man in  the  country  who  has  good  prin- 
ciples, and  smokes.  He  added,  that  poor 
Will  was  at  present  under  great  tribula- 
tion, for  that  Tom  Touchy  had  taken  the 
law  of  him  for  cutting  some  hazel  sticks 
out  of  one  of  his  hedges. 

Among  other  pieces  of  news  which  the 
Knight  brought  from  his  country  seat,  he 
informed  me  that  Moll  White  was  dead ; 
and  that  about  a  month  after  her  death 
the  wind  was  so  very  high,  that  it  blew 
down  the  end  of  one  of  his  barns.  But 
for  my  own  part,  says  Sir  Roger,  I  do  not 
think  that  the  old  woman  had  any  hand 
in  it. 

He  afterwards  fell  into  an  account  of 
the  diversions  which  had  passed  in  his 
house  during  the  holidays  ;  for  Sir  Eoger, 
after  the  laudable  custom  of  his  ancestors, 
always  keeps  open  house  at  Christmas. 
I  learned  from  him,  that  he  had  killed 
eight  fat  hogs  for  this  season,  that  he  had 
dealt  about  his  chines  very  liberally 
amongst  his  neighbors,  and  that  in  parti- 
cular he  had  sent  a  string  of  hogs-pud- 
dings with  a  pack  of  cards  to  every  poor 
family  in  the  parish.  I  have  often  thought, 
says  Sir  Roger,  it  happens  very  well  that 
Christmas  should  fall  out  in  the  middle 
of  winter.  It  is  the  most  dead  uncom- 
fortable time  of  the  year,  when  the  poor 
people  would  suffer  very  much  from  their 
poverty  and  cold,  if  they  had  not  good 
cheer,  warm  fires,  and  Christinas  gambols 
to  support  them.  I  love  to  rejoice  their 
poor  hearts  at  this  season,  and  to  see  the 
whole  village  merry  in  my  great  hall.  I 
allow  a  double  quantity  of  malt  to  my 
beer,  and  set  it  a  running  for  twelve  days 
to  every  one  that  calls  for  it.  I  have  al- 
ways a  piece  of  cold  beef  and  a  mince-pie 
upon  the  table,  and  am  wonderfully 
pleased  to  see  my  tenants  pass  away  a 
whole  evening  in  playing  their  innocent  j 
tricks,  and  smutting  one  another.  Our 


friend  Will  Wimble  is  as  merry  as  any  of 
them,  and  shows  a  thousand  roguish 
tricks  upon  these  occasions. 

I  was  very  much  delighted  with  the  re- 
flection of  my  old  friend,  which  carried 
so  much  goodness  in  it.  He  then  launch- 
ed out  into  the  praise  of  the  last  Act  of 
Parliament  for  securing  the  Church  of 
England,  and  told  me,  with  great  satis- 
faction, that  he  believed  it  already  began 
to  take  effect,  for  that  a  rigid  dissenter, 
who  chanced  to  dine  at  his  house  on 
Christmas  day,  had  been  observed  to  eat 
very  plentifully  of  his  plum-porridge. 

After  having  dispatched  all  our  country 
matters,  Sir  Roger  made  several  inquiries 
concerning  the  club,  and  particularly  of 
his  old  antagonist  Sir  Andrew  Freeport. 
He  asked  me,  with  a  kind  of  a  smile, 
whether  Sir  Andrew  had  not  taken  the 
advantage  of  his  absence,  to  vent  among 
them  some  of  his  republican  doctrines ; 
but  soon  after  gathering  up  his  counte- 
nance into  a  more  than  ordinary  serious- 
ness, Tell  me  truly,  says  he,  don't  you 
think  Sir  Andrew  had"  a  hand  in  the 
Pope's  Procession,1 but,  without  giv- 
ing me  time  to  answer  him,  Well,  well, 
says  he,  I  know  you  are  a  wary  man,  and 
do  not  care  to  talk  of  public  matters. 

The  Knight  then  asked  me  if  I  had  seen 
Prince  Eugenio,  and  made  me  promise  to 
get  him  a  stand  in  some  convenient  place 


1  The  Pope's  Procession.  Each  anniversary  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  accession  (Nov.  17)  was  for  many  years 
celebrated  by  the  citizens  of  London  in  a  manner  ex- 
pressive of  their  detestation  of  the  Church  of  Borne. 
A  procession— at  times  sufficiently  attractive  for  royal 
spectators— paraded  the  principal  streets,  the  chief 
figure  being  an  effigy  of  the  Pope,  well  executed  in  wax 
and  expensively  adorned  with  robes  and  a  tiara.  He 
was  accompanied  by  a  train  of  cardinals  and  Jesuits ; 
and  at  his  ear  stood  a  buffoon  in  the  likeness  of  a  hom- 
ed devil.  After  having  been  paraded  through  divers 
streets,  His  Holiness  was  exultingly  burnt  opposite  to 
the  Whig  Club  near  the  Temple  Gate  in  Fleet  Street. 
After  the  discovery  of  the  Kye  House  plot,  the  Pope'g 
Procession  was  discontinued ;  but  was  resuscitated  o» 
the  acquittal  of  the  seven  bishops  and  dethronement  of 
James  II.  Sacheverel's  trial  had  added  a  new  Interest 
to  the  ceremony ;  and  on  the  occasion  referred  to  by 
Sir  Boger,  besides  a  popular  dread  of  the  Church  being 
— from  the  listlessness  of  the  ministers  and  the  machi- 
nations of  the  Pretender — in  danger,  there  was  a  very 
general  opposition  to  the  peace  with  France,  for  which 
the  Tories  were  intriguing.  The  party  cry  of  "  N« 
peace"  was  shouted  in  the  same  breath  with  "H« 
Popery." 


170 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


where  he  might  have  a  full  sight  of  that 
extraordinary  man,  whose  presence  does 
so  much  honor  to  the  British  nation.  He 
dwelt  very  long  on  the  praises  of  this 
great  general,  and  I  found  that,  since 
I  was  with  him  in  the  country,  he  had 
drawn  many  observations  together  out  of 
his  reading  in  Baker's  Chronicle,  and 
other  authors,  who  always  lie  in  his  hall 
window,  which  very  much  redound  to  the 
honor  of  this  prince. 

Having  passed  away  the  greatest  part 
of  the  morning  in  hearing  the  Knight's 
reflections,  which  were  partly  private,  and 
partly  political,  he  asked  me  if  I  would 
smoke  a  pipe  with  him  over  a  dish  of 
coffee  at  Squire's.  As  I  love  the  old  man, 
I  take  delight  in  complying  with  every 
thing  that  is  agreeable  to  him,  and  ac- 
cordingly waited  on  him  to  the  coffee- 
house, where  his  venerable  figure  drew 
upon  us  the  eyes  of  the  whole  room.  He 
had  no  sooner  seated  himself  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  high  table,  but  he  called  for  a 
clean  pipe,  a  paper  of  tobacco,  a  dish  of 
coffee,  a  wax  candle,  and  the  Supplement, 
with  such  an  air  of  cheerfulness  and  good 
humor,  that  all  the  boys  in  the  coffee- 
room  (who  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in 
serving  him)  were  at  once  employed  on 
his  several  errands,  insomuch  that  no 
body  else  could  come  at  a  dish  of  tea,  till 
the  Knight  had  got  all  his  conveniences 
about  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII. — SIR     ROGER  IN    WEST- 
MINSTER   ABBEY. 

Ire  tamen  restat,  Numa  quo  deventt,  et  Anctu. — HOR. 

MY  friend,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  told 
me  t'other  night  that  he  had  been  read- 
ing my  paper  upon  Westminster  Abbey, 
in  which,  says  he,  there  are  a  great  many 
ingenious  fancies.  He  told  me  at  the 
same  time  he  observed  I  had  promised 
another  paper  upon  the  tombs,  and  he 
should  be  glad  to  go  and  see  them  with 
me,  not  having  visited  them  since  he  had 
read  history.  I  could  not  at  first  imagine 
how  this  came  into  the  Knight's  head,  till 
I  recollected  that  he  had  been  very  busy 
all  last  summer  upon  Baker's  Chronicle, 
which  he  has  quoted  several  times 
in  his  disputes  with  Sir  Andrew  Free- 
port  since  his  last  coming  to  town.  Ac- 
cordingly I  promised  to  call  upon  him 


the  next  morning,  that  we  might  go  to- 
gether to  the  Abbey. 

I  found  the  Knight  under  his  butler's 
hands,  who  always  shaves  him.  He  was 
no  sooner  dressed,  than  he  called  for  a 
glass  of  the  Widow  Trueby's  water,1 
which  he  told  me  he  always  drank  before 
he  went  abroad.  He  recommended  to 
me  a  dram  of  it  at  the  same  time,  with 
so  much  heartiness,  that  I  could  not  for- 
bear drinking  it.  As  soon  as  I  had  got 
it  down,  I  found  it  very  unpalatable ; 
upon  which  the  Knight,  observing  that  I 
had  made  several  wry  faces,  told  me  that 
he  knew  I  should  not  like  it  at  first,  but 
that  it  was  the  best  thing  in  the  world 
against  the  stone  or  gravel. 

I  could  have  wished  indeed  that  he 
had  acquainted  me  with  the  virtues  of  it 
sooner;  but  it  was  too  late  to  complain, 
and  I  knew  what  he  had  done  was  out  of 
good-will.  Sir  Eoger  told  me  further, 
that  he  looked  upon  it  to  be  very  good 
foK  a  man  whilst  he  staid  in  town  to  keep 
off  infection,  and  that  he  got  together  a 
quantity  of  it  upon  the  first  news  of  the 
sickness  being  at  Dantzic.2  When  of 
a  sudden  turning  short  to  one  of  his  ser- 
vants,, who  stood  behind,  he  bid  him  call 
a  hackney-coach,  and  take  care  it  was  an 
elderly  man  that  drove  it. 

He  then  resumed  his  discourse  upon 
Mrs.  Trueby's  water,  telling  me  that  the 
Widow  Trueby  was  one  who  did  more 
good  than  all  the  doctors  and  apotheca- 
ries in  the  country  :  That  she  distilled 
every  poppy  that  grew  within  five  miles 
of  her;  that  she  distributed  her  water 
gratis  among  all  sorts  of  people  ;  to  which 
the  Knight  added,  that  she  had  a  very 
great  jointure,  and  that  the  whole  coun- 
try would  fain  have  it  a  match  between 
him  and  her ;  and  truly,  says  Sir  Roger, 
if  I  had  not  been  engaged,  perhaps  I 
could  not  have  done  better. 


1  One  of  the  innumerable  "  strong  waters  "  drunk, 
it  is  said  (perhaps  libellously)  chiefly  by  the  fair  sex 
aa  an   exhilarant;    the   excuses  being  the  colic    and 
"  the  vapors."     Addison,  who  pretends  in  the  text  to 
find   it  unpalatable,  is  accused  of  having  been  a  con- 
stant imbiber  of   the    widow's  distillations.     Indeed, 
Tyers  goes  so  far  as  to  say  on  the  authority  of  "  Taci- 
tus" Gordon,  that  Addison  hastened  his    end    by  his 
indulgence  in  them. 

2  The  plague  which  raged  there  in  1709.  "  Idleness, 
which  has  long  raged  in  the  world,  destroys  more  in 
every  great  town  than  the  plague  has  done  at  Dantzic.' 
Taller,  Nov.  22,  1709. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


171 


His  discourse  was  broken  off  by  his 
man's  telling  him  he  had  called  a  coach. 
Upon  our  going  to  it,  after  having  cast 
his  eye  upon  the  wheels,  he  asked  the 
coachman  if  his  axletree  was  good  ;  upon 
the  fellow's  telling  him  he  would  warrant 
it,  the  Knight  turned  to  me,  told  me  he 
looked  like  an  honest  man,  and  went  in 
without  further  ceremony. 

We  had  not  gone  far,  when  Sir  Roger, 
popping  out  his  head,  called  the  coach- 
man down  from  his  box,  and,  upon  his 
presenting  himself  at  the  window,  asked 
him  if  he  smoked  ;  as  I  was  considering 
what  this  would  end  in,  he  bid  him  stop 
by  the  way  at  any  good  tobacconist's,  and 
take  in  a  roll  of  their  best  Virginia. 
Nothing  material  happened  in  the  remain- 
ing part  of  our  journey  till  we  were  set 
down  at  the  west  end  of  the  Abbey. 

As  we  went  up  the  body  of  the  church, 
the  Knight  pointed  at  the  trophies  upon 
one  of  the  new  monuments,  and  cried 
out,  A  brave  man  I  warrant  him !  Parsing 
afterwards  by  Sir  Cloudsly  Shovel,  he 
flung  his  hand  that  way  and  cried,  Sir 
Cloudsly  Shovel !  a  very  gallant  man  I  As 
we  stood  before  Busby's  tomb,  the  Knight 
uttered  himself  again  after  the  same  man- 
ner: Dr.  Busby,  a  great  man,  he  whipped 
my  grandfather ;  a  very  great  man  !  I 
should  have  gone  to  him  myself,  if  I  had 
not  been  a  blockhead  ;  a  very  great  man ! 

We  were  immediately  conducted  into 
the  little  chapel  on  the  right  hand.  Sir 
Roger,  planting  himself  at  our  historian's 
elbow,  was  very  attentive  to  everything 
he  said,  particularly  of  the  account  he 
gave  us  of  the  lord  who  had  cut  off  the 
king  of  Morocco's  head.  Among  several 
other  figures,  he  was  very  well  pleased  to 
see  the  statesman  Cecil  upon  his  knees ; 
and  concluding  them  all  to  be  great  men, 
was  conducted  to  the  figure  which  repre- 
sents that  martyr  to  good  housewifery,  who 
died  by  the  prick  of  a  needle.1  Upon  our 


1  This  Is  one  of  the  "  hundred  lies  "  which  the  at> 
tendant  is  said  to  have  told  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the 
World  "  without  blushing."  The  monument  in  St. 
Edmund's  chapel,  is  that  of  Elizabeth,  youngest 
daughter  of  Lord  John  Russel  (temp.  1584).  "  The 
figure  is  melancholily  inclining  her  cheek  to  her 
right  hand,  and  with  the  fore-finger  of  her  left  direct- 
ing us  to  behold  the  Death's  Head  placed  at  her  feet." 
(Kevpe  Monat.  Westm.)  This  alone  is  said  to  hare 
originated  an  unwarrantable  verdict  of  "  died  from  the 
prick  of  a  needle." 


interpreter's  telling  us,  that  she  was  a 
maid  of  honor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  the 
Knight  was  very  inquisitive  into  her  name 
and  family ;  and  after  having  regarded 
her  finger  for  some  time,  I  wonder,  says 
he,  that  Sir  Richard  Baker  has  said  noth- 
ing of  her  in  his  Chronicle. 

We  were  then  conveyed  to  the  two 
coronation  chairs,  where  my  old  friend, 
after  having  heard  that  the  stone  under- 
neath the  most  ancient  of  them,  which 
was  brought  from  Scotland,  was  called 
Jacob's  Pillar,  sat  himself  down  in  the 
chair ;  and  looking  like  the  figure  of  an 
old  Gothic  king,  asked  our  interpreter, 
ivhat  authority  they  had  to  say,  that  Ja- 
cob had  ever  been  in  Scotland?  The 
fellow,  instead  of  returning  him  an  an- 
swer, told  him,  that  he  hoped  his  honor 
would  pay  his  forfeit.  I  could  observe 
Sir  Roger  a  little  ruffled  upon  being  thus 
trepanned;  but  our  guide  not  insisting 
upon  his  demand,  the  Knight  soon  recov- 
ered his  good  humor  and  whispered  in 
my  ear,  that  if  Will  Wimble  were  with 
us,  and  saw  those  two  chairs,  it  would  go 
hard  but  he  would  get  a  tobacco-stopper 
out  of  one  or  t'other  of  them. 

Sir  Roger,  in  the  next  place,  laid  his 
hand  upon  Edward  the  Third's  sword, 
and  leaning  upon  the  pommel  of  it,  gave 
us  the  whole  history  of  the  Black  Prince ; 
concluding,  that,  in  Sir  Richard  Baker's 
opinion,  Edward  the  Third  was  one  of 
the  greatest  princes  that  ever  sat  upon 
the  English  throne. 

We  were  then  shown  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor's tomb ;  upon  which  Sir  Roger  ac- 
quainted us,  that  he  was  the  first  who 
touched  for  the  evil;  and  afterwards 
Henry  the  Fourth's,  upon  which  he  shook 
his  head,  and  told  us  there  was  fine  read- 
ing in  the  casualties  of  that  reign. 

Our  conductor  then  pointed  to  that 
monument  where  there  is  the  figure  of 
one  of  our  English  kings  without  a 
head ;  and  upon  giving  us  to  know,  that 
the  head,  which  was  of  beaten  silver,  had 
been  stolen  away  several  years  since:1 
Some  Whig,  I'll  warrant  you,  says  Sir 
Roger ;  you  ought  to  lock  up  your  kings 
better ;  they  will  carry  oflf  the  body  too, 
if  you  don't  take  care. 


1  The  effigy  of  Henry  V.  which  was  plated  with  silver 
except  the  head,  and  that  was  of  solid  metal.  At  the 
dissolution  of  the  monasteries  the  figure  was  stripped 
of  its  plating,  and  the  bead  stolen. 


172 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


The  glorious  names  of  Henry  the  Fifth 
and  Queen  Elizabeth  gave  the  Knight 
great  opportunities  of  shining  and  of  do- 
ing justice  to  Sir  Richard  Baker,  who,  as 
our  Knight  observed  with  some  surprise, 
had  a  great  many  kings  in  him,  whose 
monuments  he  had  not  seen  in  the  Abbey. 

For  my  own  part,  I  could  not  but  be 
pleased  to  see  the  Knight  show  such  an 
honest  passion  for  the  glory  of  his  country, 
and  such  a  respectful  gratitude  to  the 
memory  of  its  princes. 

I  must  not  omit,  that  the  benevolence 
of  my  good  oldj  friend,  which  flows  out 
towards  every  one  he  converses  with, 
made  him  very  kind  to  our  interpreter, 
whom  he  looked  upon  as  an  extraordinary 
man  ;  for  which  reason  he  shook  him  by 
the  hand  at  parting,  telling  him,  that  he 
should  be  very  glad  to  see  him  at  his 
lodgings  in  Norfolk  Buildings,  and  talk 
over  these  matters  with  him  more  at 
leisure. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. — SIB  ROGER  AT  THB 
PLAYHOUSE. 

Retpicere  exemplar  irite  morumquejubebo 

Doctum  imitalorem,  et  verca  hinc  duce>-e  voces. — HOB. 

MY  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  when 
we  last  met  together  at  the  club,  told  me 
that  he  had  a  great  mind  to  see  the  new 
tragedy  with  me,  assuring  me  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  had  not  been  at  a  play  these 
twenty  years.  The  last  I  saw,  said  Sir 
Roger,  was  the  Committee,  which  I  should 
not  have  gone  to  neither,  had  not  I  been 
tol  d  before-hand  that  it  was  a  good  Church- 
of-England  comedy.  He  then  proceeded 
to  inquire  of  me  who  this  distressed 
mother  was ;  and  upon  hearing  that  she 
was  Hector's  widow,  he  told  me  that  her 
husband  was  a  brave  man,  and  that  when 
he  was  a  school-boy,  he  had  read  his  life 
at  the  end  of  the  dictionary.  My  friend 
asked  me  in  the  next  place,  if  there  would 
not  be  some  danger  in  coming  home  late. 
in  case  the  Mohocks  should  be  abroad/ 


1  Mofiorks. — It  had  been  for  many  years  the  favorite 
amusement  of  dissolute  young  men  to  form  themselves 
into  clubs  and  associations  for  the  cowardly  pleasure  of 
fighting  and  sometimes  maiming  harmless  pedestrians, 
and  even  defenceless  women.  They  took  various  slang 
designations.  At  the  Restoration  they  were  Muns  and 
Tityre-Tus ;  then  Ilectors  and  Scourers ;  later  still, 


I  assure  you,  says  he,  I  thought  I  had 
fallen  into  their  hands  last  night ;  for  I 
observed  two  or  three  lusty  black  men 
that  followed  me  half  way  up  Fleet-street, 
and  mended  their  pace  behind  me,  in 
proportion  as  I  put  on  to  get  away  from 
them.  You  must  know,  continued  the 
Knight  with  a  smile,  I  fancied  they  had 
a  mind  to  hunt  me ;  for  I  remember  an 
honest  gentleman  in  my  neighborhood, 
who  was  served  such  a  trick  in  King 
Charles  the  Second's  time ;  for  which  rea- 
son he  has  not  ventured  himself  in  town 
ever  since.  I  might  have  shown  them  very 
good  sport,  had  this  been  their  design  ;  for 
as  I  am  an  old  fox-hunter,  I  should  have 
turned  and  dodged,  and  have  played  them 
a  thousand  tricks  they  had  never  seen  in 
their  lives  before.  Sir  Roger  added,  that 
if  these  gentlemen  had  any  such  intention, 
they  did  not  succeed  very  well  in  it :  for  I 
threw  them  out,  says  he,  at  the  end  of 
Norfolk-street,  where  I  doubled  the  cor- 
ner and  got  shelter  in  my  lodgings  before 
they  could  imagine  what  was  become  of 
me.  However,  says  the  Knight,  if  Captain 
Sentry  will  make  one  with  us,  to-morrow 


Nickers  (whose  expensive  delight  it  was  to  smash  win- 
dows with  showers  of  halfpence),  Hawkabites,  and 
lastly  Mohocks.  These  last  took  their  title  from  "  a 
sort  of  cannibals  in  India  who  subsist  by  plundering 
and  devouring  all  the  nations  about  them.  (Spectator,  No. 
324.)  Nor  was  the  designation  inapt ;  for  if  there  waa 
one  sort  of  brutality  on  which  they  prided  themselves 
more  than  another,  it  was  in  tattooing,  or  slashing  peo- 
ple's faces  with,  as  Gay  wrote,  "  new-invented  wounds." 
Their  other  exploits  were  quite  as  savage  as  those  of 
their  predecessors,  although  they  aimed  at  dashing  their 
mischief  with  wit  and  originality.  They  began  the 
evening  at  their  clubs,  by  drinking  to  excess  in  order  to 
inflame  what  little  courage  they  possessed.  They  then 
sallied  forth  sword  in  hand.  Some  enacted  the  part  of 
"  dancing  masters  "  by  thrusting  their  rapiers  between 
the  legs  of  sober  citizens  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  make 
them  cut  the  most  grotesque  capers.  The  Hunt  spoken 
of  by  Sir  Roger  was  commenced  by  a  "  view  hallo !  " 
and  as  soon  as  the  savage  pack  had  run  down  their 
victim,  they  surrounded  him,  to  form  a  circle  with  the 
points  of  their  swords.  One  gave  him  a  puncture  in  the 
rear  which  naturally  made  him  wheel  about,  then  came 
a  prick  from  another,  and  so  they  kept  him  spinning 
like  a  top  till  in  their  mercy  they  chose  to  let  him  go  free. 
Another  savage  diversion  was  thrusting  women  into 
barrels  and  rolling  them  down  Snow  or  Ludgate  hill. 
At  the  date  of  the  present  Spectator  the  outrages  of  the 
Mohocks  were  so  intolerable  that  they  became  the  sub- 
ject of  a  Royal  Proclamation  issued  on  the  18th  March, 
just  a  week  before  Sir  Roger's  visit  to  Dniry  Lane. 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


173 


night,  and  if  you  will  both  of  you  call 
upon  me  about  four  o'clock,  that  we  may 
be  at  the  house  before  it  is  full,  I  will 
have  my  own  coach  in  readiness  to  attend 
you,  for  John  tells  me  he  has  got  the  fore- 
wheels  mended. 

The  captain,  who  did  not  fail  to  meet 
me  there  at  the  appointed  hour,  bid  Sir 
Roger  fear  nothing,  for  that  he  had  put 
on  the  same  sword  which  he  made  use  of 
at  the  battle  of  Steenkirk.  Sir  Eoger's 
servant's,  and  among  the  rest  my  old 
friend  the  butler,  had,  I  found,  provided 
themselves  with  good  oaken  plants,  to  at- 
tend their  master  on  this  occasion. 
When  we  had  placed  him  in  his  coach, 
with  myself  at  his  left  hand,  the  captain 
before  him,  and  his  butler  at  the  head  of 
his  footmen  in  the  rear,  we  convoyed  him 
in  safety  to  the  playhouse,  where  after 
having  marched  up  the  entry  in  good  or- 
der, the  captain  and  I  went  in  with  him, 
and  seated  him  betwixt  us  in  the  pit.  As 
soon  as  the  house  was  full,  and  the  can- 
dles lighted,  my  old  friend  stood  up  and 
looked  about  him  with  that  pleasure, 
which  a  mind  seasoned  with  humanity 
naturally  feels  in  itself,  at  the  sight  of  a 
multitude  of  people  who  seem  pleased 
with  one  another,  and  partake  of  the 
same  common  entertainment.  I  could 
not  but  fancy  to  myself,  as  the  old  man 
stood  up  in  the  middle  of  the  pit,  that  he 
made  a  very  proper  centre  to  a  tragic 
audience.  Upon  the  entering  of  Pyrr- 
hus,  the  Knight  told  me  that  he  did  not 
believe  the  king  of  France  himself  had  a 
better  strut.  I  was  indeed  very  attentive 
to  my  old  friend's  remarks,  because  I 
looked  upon  them  as  a  piece  of  natural 
criticism,  and  was  well  pleased  to  hear 
him,  at  the  conclusion  of  almost  every 
scene,  telling  me  that  he  could  not  imag- 
ine how  the  play  would  end.  One  while 
he  appeared  much  concerned  for  Andro- 
mache ;  and  a  little  while  after  as  much 
for  Hermione ;  and  was  extremely  puz- 
zled to  think  what  would  become  of  Pyrr- 
hus. 

When  Sir  Roger  saw  Andromache's 
obstinate  refusal  to  her  lover's  importu- 
nities, he  whispered  me  in  the  ear  that 
he  was  sure  she  would  never  have  him ; 
to  which  he  added,  with  a  more  than 
ordinary  vehemence,  you  can't  imagine, 
sir,  what 't  is  to  have  to  do  with  a  widow. 
Upon  Pyrrhus  his  threatening  afterwards 
to  leave  her,  the  Knight  shook  his  head 


and  muttered  to  himself,  Ay,  do  if  you 
can.  This  part  dwelt  so  much  upon  my 
friend's  imagination,  that  at  the  close  of 
the  third  act,  as  I  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing else,  he  whispered  me  in  my  ear. 
These  widows,  sir,  are  the  most  perverse 
creatures  in  the  world.  But  pray,  says 
he,  you  that  are  a  critic,  is  the  play  ac- 
cording to  your  dramatic  rules,  as"  you 
call  them  ?  Should  your  people  in  tra- 
gedy always  talk  to  be  understood?  Why 
there  is  not  a  single  sentence  in  this  play 
that  I  do  not  know  the  meaning  of. 

The  fourth  act  very  luckily  begun  be- 
fore I  had  time  to  give  the  old  gentleman 
an  answer.  Well,  says  the  Knight,  sitting 
down  with  great  satisfaction,  I  suppose 
we  are  now  to  see  Hector's  ghost.  He 
then  renewed  his  attention,  and  from 
time  to  time,  fell  a  praising  the  widow. 
He  made,  indeed,  a  little  mistake  as  to 
one  of  her  pages,  whom  at  his  first  enter- 
ing he  took  for  Astyanax ;  but  quickly 
set  himself  right  in  that  particular, 
though,  at  the  same  time,  he  owned  he 
should  have  been  very  glad  to  have  seen 
the  little  boy,  who,  says  he,  must  needs 
be  a  very  fine  child  by  the  account  that  is 
given  of  him.  Upon  Hermione's  going 
off  with  a  menace  to  Pyrrhus,  the  audi- 
ence gave  a  loud  clap,  to  which  Sir  Roger 
added,  on  my  word,  a  notable  young  bag- 
gage! 

As  there  was  a  very  remarkable  silence 
and  stillness  in  the  audience  during  the 
whole  action,  it  was  natural  for  them  to 
take  the  opportunity  of  the  intervals 
between  the  acts,  to  express  their  opinion 
of  the  plays,  and  of  their  respective 
parts.  Sir  Roger  hearing  a  cluster  of 
them  praise  Orestes,  struck  in  with  them, 
and  told  them,  that  he  thought  his  friend 
Pylades  was  a  very  sensible  man  ;  as  they 
were  afterwards  applauding  Pyrrhus,  Sir 
Roger  put  in  a  second  time:  And  let  me 
tell  you,  says  he,  though  he  speaks  but 
little,  I  like  the  old  fellow  in  whiskers  as 
well  as  any  of  them.  Captain  Sentry 
seeing  two  or  three  wags,  who  sat  near 
us,  lean  with  an  attentive  ear  towards  Sir 
Roger,  and  fearing  lest  they  should  smoke 
the  Knight,  plucked  him  by  the  elbow, 
and  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  that 
lasted  till  the  opening  of  the  fifth  act. 
The  Knight  was  wonderfully  attentive  to 
the  account  which  Orestes  gives  of  Pyrr- 
hus his  death,  and  at  the  conclusion  of 
it  told  me  it  was  such  a  bloody  piece  of 


174 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


work,  that  he  was  glad  it  was  not  done 
upon  the  stage.  Seeing  afterwards  Orestes 
in  his  raving  fit,  he  grew  more  than  ordi- 
nary serious,  and  took  occasion  to 
moralize  (in  his  way)  upon  an  evil  con- 
science, adding,  that "  Orestes,  in  his  mad- 
ness, looked  as  if  he  saw  something." 

As  we  were  the  first  that  came  into  the 
house,  so  we  were  the  last  that  went  out 
of  it;  being  resolved  to  have  a  clear  pas- 
sage for  our  old  friend,  whom  we  did  not 
care  to  venture  among  the  justling  of  the 
crowd.  Sir  Roger  went  out  fully  satisfied 
with  his  entertainment,  and  we  guarded 
him  to  his  lodging  in  the  same  manner 
that  we  had  brought  him  to  the  play- 
house ;  being  highly  pleased  for  my  own 
part,  not  only  with  the  performance  of 
the  excellent  piece  which  bad  been  pre- 
sented, but  with  the  satisfaction  which  it 
had  given  to  the  old  man. 


CHAPTER  XXIV.— SIR  ROGER  AT  VATTX- 
HALL. 

Criminibua  debent  hortoi Juv. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  my  chamber  and 
thinking  on  a  subject  for  my  next  Spec- 
tator, I  heard  two  or  three  irregular 
bounces  at  my  landlady's  door,  and  upon 
the  opening  of  it,  a  loud  cheerful  voice 
inquiring  whether  the  philosopher  was 
at  home.  The  child  who  went  to  the  door 
answered  very  innocently,  that  he  did  not 
lodge  there.  I  immediately  recollected 
that  it  was  my  good  friend  Sir  Roger's 
voice ;  and  that  I  had  promised  to  go 
with  him  on  the  water  to  Spring  Garden, 
in  case  it  proved  a  good  evening.  The 
Knight  put  me  in  mind  of  my  promise 
from  the  bottom  of  the  stair-case,  but 
told  me  that  if  I  was  speculating  he 
would  stay  below  till  I  had  done.  Upon 
my  coming  down,  I  found  all  the  chil- 
dren of  the  family  got  about  my  old 
friend,  and  my  landlady  herself,  who  is  a 
notable  prating  gossip,  engaged  in  a  con- 
ference with  him  ;  being  mightily  pleased 
with  his  stroking  her  little  boy  upon  the 
head,  and  bidding  him  be  a  good  child, 
and  mind  his  book. 

We  were  no  sooner  come  to  the  Temple- 
stairs,  but  we  were  surrounded  by  a  crowd 
of  watermen,  offering  us  their  respective 
«ervices.  Sir  Roger,  after  having  looked 


about  him  very  attentively,  spied  one 
with  a  wooden  leg,  and  immediately  gave 
him  orders  to  get  his  boat  ready.  As  we 
were  walking  towards  it,  "  You  must 
know,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "  I  never  make  use 
of  anybody  to  row  me,  that  has  not  either 
lost  a  leg  or  an  arm.  I  would  rather  bate 
him  a  few  strokes  of  his  oar,  than  not 
employ  an  honest  man  that  has  been 
wounded  in  the  Queen's  service.  If  I 
was  a  lord  or  a  bishop,  and  kept  a  barge, 
I  would  not  put  a  fellow  in  my  livery 
that  had  not  a  wooden  leg." 

My  old  friend,  after  having  seated  him- 
self, and  trimmed  the  boat  with  his 
coachman,  who,  being  a  very  sober  man, 
always  serves  for  ballast  on  these  occa- 
sions, we  made  the  best  of  our  way  for 
Vaux-Hall.  Sir  Roger  obliged  the  wa- 
terman to  give  us  the  history  of  his  right 
leg,  and  hearing  that  he  had  left  it  at 
La  Hogue,  with  many  particulars  which 
passed  in  that  glorious  action,  the  Knight 
in  the  triumph  of  his  heart  made  several 
reflections  on  the  greatness  of  the  British 
nation ;  as,  that  one  Englishman  could 
beat  three  Frenchmen ;  that  we  could 
never  be  in  danger  of  Popery  so  long  as 
we  took  care  of  our  fleet;  that  the 
Thames  was  the  noblest  river  in  Europe  ; 
that  London  bridge  was  a  greater  piece 
of  work  than  any  of  the  seven  wonders 
of  the  world ;  with  many  other  honest 
prejudices  which  naturally  cleave  to  the 
heart  of  a  true  Englishman. 

After  some  short  pause,  the  old  Knight 
turning  about  his  head  twice  or  thrice,  to 
take  a  survey  of  this  great  metropolis, 
bid  me  observe  how  thick  the  city  was 
set  with  churches,  and  that  there  was 
scarce  a  single  steeple  on  this  side  Tem- 
ple-Bar. "  A  most  heathenish  sight ! " 
says  Sir  Roger  :  "There  is  no  religion  at 
this  end  of  the  town.  The  fifty  new 
churches  will  very  much  mend  the  pros- 
pect ;  but  Church  work  is  slow,  church 
work  is  slow  I " 

I  do  not  remember  I  have  any  where 
mentioned,  in  Sir  Roger's  character,  his 
custom  of  saluting  everybody  that  passes 
by  him  with  a  good-morrow,  or  a  good- 
night. This  the  old  man  does  out 
of  the  overflowings  of  his  humanity, 
though  at  the  same  time  it  renders  him 
so  popular  among  all  his  country  neigh- 
bors, that  it  is  thought  to  have  gone  a 
food  way  in  making  him  once  or  twice 
night  of  the  shire.  He  cannot  forbear 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


175 


this  exercise  of  benevolence  even  in 
town,  when  he  meets  with  any  one  in 
his  morning  or  evening  walk.  It  broke 
from  him  to  several  boats  that  passed  by 
us  upon  the  water ;  but  to  the  Knight's 
great  surprise,  as  he  gave  the  good-night 
to  two  or  three  young  fellows  a  little 
before  our  landing,  one  of  them,  instead 
of  returning  the  civility,  asked  us  what 
queer  old  put  we  had  in  the  boat,  with  a 
great  deal  of  the  like  Thames  ribaldry. 
Sir  Roger  seemed  a  little  shocked  at  first, 
but  at  length,  assuming  a  face  of  magis- 
tracy, told  us,  that  "  if  he  were  a  Middle- 
sex justice,  he  would  make  such  vagrants 
know  that  her  Majesty's  subjects  were  no 
more  to  be  abused  by  water  than  by  land." 

We  were  now  arrived  at  Spring-Garden, 
which  is  exquisitely  pleasant  at  this  time 
of  the  year.  When  I  considered  the  fra- 
grancy  of  the  walks  and  bowers,  with  the 
choirs  of  birds  that  sung  upon  the  trees, 
and  the  loose  tribe  of  people  that  walked 
under  their  shades,  I  could  not  but  look 
upon  the  place  as  a  kind  of  Mahometan 
Paradise.  Sir  Roger  told  me  it  put  him 
in  mind  of  a  little  coppice  by  his  house  in 
the  country,  which  his  chaplain  used  to 
call  an  aviary  of  nightingales.  "  You  must 
understand,"  says  the  Knight,  "there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  that  pleases  a  man 
in  love  so  much  as  your  nightingale.  Ah, 
Mr.  Spectator !  the  many  moon-light 
nights  that  I  have  walked  by  myself,  and 
thought  on  the  widow  by  the  music  of  the 
nightingale  ! "  He  here  fetched  a  deep 
sigh,  and  was  falling  into  a  fit  of  musing, 
when  a  mask  who  came  behind  him,  gave 
him  a  gentle  tap  upon  the  shoulder,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  drink  a  bottle  of 
mead  with  her  ?  But  the  Knight  being 
startled  at  so  unexpected  a  familiarity, 
and  displeased  to  be  interrupted  in  his 
thoughts  of  the  widow,  told  her,  she  was 
a  wanton  baggage,  and  bid  her  go  about 
her  business. 

We  concluded  our  walk  with  a  glass  of 
Bur  ton -ale,  and  a  slice  of  hung-beef. 
When  we  had  done  eating  ourselves,  the 
Knight  called  a  waiter  to  him,  and  bid 
him  carry  the  remainder  to  the  waterman 
that  had  but  one  leg.  I  perceived  the 
fellow  stared  upon  him  at  the  oddness  of 
the  message,  and  was  going  to  be  saucy  ; 
upon  which  I  ratified  the  Knight's  com- 
mands w;th  a  peremptory  look. 


CHAPTER  XXV. — SIR  ROGER,  THE  WIDOW, 
WILL  HONEYCOMB,  AND  MILTON.1 

Tori'a  lesena  lupum  sequitur,  Input  ipie  capeUam ; 
Florentem  cytUuni  sequitur  laiciva  captlla. — VlEO. 

As  we  were  at  the  club  last  night,  I 
observed  my  friend  Sir  Koger,  contrary 
to  his  usual  custom,  sat  very  silent,  and 
instead  of  minding  what  was  said  by  the 
company,  was  whistling  to  himself  in  a 
very  thoughtful  mood,  and  playing  with 
a  cork.  I  jogged  Sir  Andrew  Freeport 
who  sat  between  us ;  and  as  we  were  both 
observing  him,  we  saw  the  Knight  shake 
his  head,  and  heard  him  say,  to  himself, 
A  foolish  woman !  I  can't  believe  it.  Sir 
Andrew  gave  him  a  gentle  pat  upon  the 
shoulder,  and  offered  to  lay  him  a  bottle 
of  wine  that  he  was  thinking  of  the  wid- 
ow. My  old  friend  started,  and  recover- 
ing out  of  his  brown  study,  told  Sir  An- 
drew that  once  in  his  life  he  had  been  in 
the  right.  In  short,  after  some  little  hes- 
itation, Sir  Roger  told  us  in  the  fulness 
of  his  heart  that  he  had  just  received  a 
letter  from  his  steward,  which  acquainted 
him  that  his  old  rival  and  antagonist  in 
the  country,  Sir  David  Dundrum,  had 
been  making  a  visit  to  the  widow.  How- 
ever, says  Sir  Roger,  I  can  never  think 
that  she'll  have  a  man  that's  half  a  year 
older  than  I  am,  and  a  noted  republican 
into  the  bargain. 

Will  Honeycomb,  who  looks  upon  love 
as  his  particular  province,  interrupting 
our  friend  with  a  jaunty  laugh ;  I  thought, 
Knight,  says  he,  thou  hadst  lived  long 
enough  in  the  world,  not  to  pin  thy  hap- 
piness upon  one  that  is  a  woman  and  a 
widow.  I  think  that  without  vanity  I 
may  pretend  to  know  as  much  of  the  fe- 
male world  as  any  man  in  Great  Britain, 
though  the  chief  of  my  knowledge  con- 
sists in  this,  that  they  are  not  to  be 
known.  Will  immediately,  with  his  usual 
fluency,  rambled  into  an  account  of  his 
own  amours.  I  am  now,  says  he,  upon 
the  verge  of  fifty  (though  by  the  way  we 
all  knew  he  was  turned  of  threescore). 
You  may  easily  guess,  continued  Will, 
that  I  have  not  lived  so  long  in  the  world 
without  having  had  some  thoughts  of 
settling  in  it,  as  the  phrase  is,  To  tell 
you  truly,  I  have  several  times  tried  my 


l  By  Budgtll. 


176 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


fortune  that  way,  though  I  can't  much 
boast  of  my  success. 

I  made  my  first  addresses  to  a  young 
lady  in  the  country  ;  but  when  I  thought 
things  were  pretty  well  drawing  to  a  con- 
clusion, her  father  happening  to  hear  that 
I  had  formerly  boarded  with  a  surgeon, 
the  old  put  forbid  me  his  house,  and 
within  a  fortnight  after  married  his 
daughter  to  a  fox-hunter  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

I  made  my  next  application  to  a  widow, 
and  attacked  her  so  briskly,  that  I  thought 
myself  within  a  fortnight  of  her.  As  I 
waited  upon  her  one  morning,  she  told 
me,  that  she  intended  to  keep  her  ready 
money  and  jointure  in  her  own  hand,  and 
desired  me  to  call  upon  her  attorney  in 
Lions-Inn,  who  would  adjust  with  me 
what  it  was  proper  for  me  to  add  to  it.  I 
was  so  rebuffed  by  this  overture,  that  I 
never  inquired  either  for  her  or  her  attor- 
ney afterwards. 

A  few  months  after  I  addressed  myself 
to  a  young  lady  who  was  an  only  daugh- 
ter, and  of  a  good  family  :  I  danced  with 
her  at  several  balls,  squeezed  her  by  the 
hand,  said  soft  things  to  her,  and  in  short 
made  no  doubt  of  her  heart ;  and  tho' 
my  fortune  was  not  equal  to  hers,  I  was 
in  hopes  that  her  fond  father  would  not 
deny  her  the  man  she  had  fixed  her  af- 
fections upon.  But  as  I  went  one  day  to 
the  house  in  order  to  break  the  matter  to 
him,  I  found  the  whole  family  in  confu- 
sion, and  heard  to  my  unspeakable  sur- 
prise, that  Miss  Jenny  was  that  very 
morning  run  away  with  the  butler. 

I  then  courted  a  second  widow,  and  am 
at  a  loss  to  this  day  how  I  came  to  miss 
her,  for  she  had  often  commended  my 
person  and  behavior.  Her  maid  indeed 
told  me  one  day,  that  her  mistress  had 
said  she  never  saw  a  gentleman  with  such 
a  spindle  pair  of  legs  as  Mr.  Honeycomb. 

After  this  I  laid  siege  to  four  heiresses 
successively,  and  being  a  handsome  young 
dog  in  those  days,  quickly  made  a  breach 
in  their  hearts  ;  but  I  don't  know  how  it 
came  to  pass,  though  I  seldom  failed  of 
getting  the  daughter's  consent,  I  could 
never  in  my  life  get  the  old  people  on  my 
side. 

I  could  give  you  an  account  of  a  thou- 
sand other  unsuccessful  attempts,  particu- 
larly of  one  which  I  made  some  years 
since  upon  an  old  woman,  whom  I  had 
certainly  borne  away  with  flying  colors,  if 


her  relations  had  not  come  pouring  in  to 
her  assistance  from  all  parts  of  England  ; 
nay,  I  believe  I  should  have  got  her  at 
last,  had  not  she  been  carriedoff  by  a  hard 
frost. 

As  Will's  transitions  are  extremely 
quick,  he  turned  from  Sir  Roger,  and 
applying  himself  to  me,  told  me  there 
was  a  passage  in  the  book  I  had  consid- 
ered last  Saturday,  which  deserved  to  be 
writ  in  letters  of  gold  ;  and  taking  out  a 
pocket-Milton,  read  the  following  lines, 
which  are  part  of  one  of  Adam's  speeches 
to  Eve  after  the  fall. 

Oh !  why  did  God, 

Creator  wise  1  that  peopled  highest  heaven 
With  spirits  masculine,  create  at  last 
This  novelty  on  earth,  this  fair  defect 
Of  Nature  ?  and  not  fill  the  world  at  once 
With  men,  as  angels,  without  feminine  ? 
Or  find  some  other  way  to  generate 
Mankind  ?     This  mischief  had  not  then  be- 
fallen, 

And  more  that  shall  befall,  innumerable 
Disturbances  on  earth  through  female  snares 
And  strait  conjunction  with  this  sex :   for 

either 

He  never  shall  find  out  fit  mate ;  but  such 
As  some  misfortune  brings  him,  or  mistake ; 
Or,  whom  he  wishes  most,  shall  seldom  gain 
Through  her  perverseness ;  but  shall  see 

her  gained 

By  a  far  worse :  or  if  she  love,  withheld 
By  parents  ;   or  his  happiest  choice  too  late 
Shall  meet  already  linked,  and   wedlock- 
bound 

To  a  fell  adversary,  his  hate  or  shame ; 
Which  infinite  calamity  shall  cause 
To  human  life,  and  household  peace  con- 
found. 

Sir  Roger  listened  to  this  passage  with 
great  attention,  and  desiring  Mr.  Honey- 
comb to  fold  down  a  leaf  at  the  place, 
and  lend  him  his  book,  the  Knight  put  it 
up  [in  his  pocket,  and  told  us  that  he 
would  read  over  those  verses  again  before 
he  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER     XXVI. — SIR    ROGER    PASSETH 
AWAY. 

Benpieta*  I  heu  prixca  fides  ! — Vino. 

WE  last  night  received  a  piece  of  ill 
news  at  our  club,  which  very  sensibly 
afflicted  evtry  one  of  us.  I  question  not 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 


17? 


but  my  readers  themselves  will  be  troubled 
at  the  hearing  of  it.  To  keep  them  no 
longer  in  suspense,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 
is  dead.1  He  departed  this  life  at  his 
house  in  the  country,  after  a  few  weeks 
sickness.  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  has  a 
letter  from  one  of  his  correspondents  in 
those  parts,  that  informs  him  the  old 
man  caught  a  cold  at  the  county-sessions, 
as  he  was  very  warmly  promoting  an 
address  of  his  own  penning,  in  which  he 
succeeded  according  to  his  wishes.  But 
this  particular  comes  from  a  Whig  justice 
of  peace,  who  was  always  Sir  Roger's 
enemy  and  antagonist.  I  have  letters 
both  from  the  chaplain  and  Captain  Sen- 
try which  mention  nothing  of  it,  but  are 
filled  with  many  particulars  to  the  honor 
of  the  good  old  man.  I  have  likewise  a 
letter  from  the  butler,  who  took  so  much 
care  of  me  last  summer  when  I  was  at 
the  Knight's  house.  As  my  friend  the 
butler  mentions,  in  the  simplicity  of  his 
heart,  several  circumstances  the  others 
have  passed  over  in  silence,  I  shall  give 
my  reader  a  copy  of  his  letter,  without 
any  alteration  or  diminution. 

"Honored  Sir, 

Knowing  that  you  was  my  old 
master's  good  friend,  I  could  not  forbear 
sending  you  the  melancholy  news  of  his 
death,  which  has  afflicted  the  whole  coun- 
try, as  well  as  his  poor  servants,  who 
loved  him,  I  may  say,  better  than  we  did 
our  lives.  I  am  afraid  he  caught  his 
death  the  last  county-sessions,  where  he 


1  Mr.  Addison  was  §o  fond  of  this  eVwacter  that  a 
little  before  he  laid  down  the  Spectator  (foreseeing  that 
Borne  nimble  gentleman  would  catch  up  his  pen  the 
moment  he  quitted  it)  he  said  to  our  intimate  friend 
with  a  certain  warmth  in  his  expression,  which  he  was 
not  often  guilty  of,  "  I'll  kil'  Sir  Koger  that  nobody 
else  may  murder  him."  Th+  Bee,  p.  26. 

On  this  Chalmers  sensibty  remarks  that,  "the  killing 
of  Sir  Roger  has  been  efficiently  accounted  for,  with- 
out supposing  that  Addison  despatched  him  in  a  fit  of 
anger;  for  the  work  "Vsa  about  to  close,  and  it  appeared 
necessary  to  close  Mie  club ;  but  whatever  difference  of 
opinion  there  may  be  concerning  this  circumstance,  it 
is  universally  agreed  that  it  produced  a  paper  of  tran- 
scendent excellence  in  all  the  graces  of  simplicity  and 
pathos.  There  is  not  in  our  language  any  assumption 
o«  character  more  faithful  than  that  of  the  honest  but- 
ler; nor  a  more  irresistible  stroke  of  nature  than  the 
circumstance  of  the  book  received  by  Sir  Andrew  Free- 
port." 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


would  go  to  see  justice  done  to  a  poor 
widow  woman,  and  her  fatherless  chil- 
dren, that  had  been  wronged  by  a  neigh- 
boring gentleman ;  for  you  know,  Sir,  my 
good  master  was  always  the  poor  man's 
friend.  Upon  his  coming  home,  the  first 
complaint  he  made  was,  that  he  had  lost 
his  roast-beef  stomach,  not  being  able  to 
touch  a  sirloin,  which  was  served  up  ac- 
cording to  custom ;  and  you  know  he 
used  to  take  great  delight  in  it.  From 
that  time  forward  he  grew  worse  and 
worse,  but  still  kept  a  good  heart  to  the 
last.  Indeed  we  were  once  in  great  hope 
of  his  recovery,  upon  a  kind  message  that 
was  sent  him  from  the  widow  lady  whom 
he  had  made  love  to  the  forty  last  years 
of  his  life ;  but  this  only  proved  a  light- 
ning before  death.  He  has  bequeathed 
to  this  lady,  as  a  token  of  his  love  a  great 
pearl  necklace,  and  a  couple  of  silve/ 
bracelets  set  with  jewels,  which  belonged 
to  my  good  old  lady  his  mother :  he  has 
bequeathed  the  fine  white  gelding,  that 
he  used  to  ride  a  hunting  upon,  to  his 
chaplain,  because  he  thought  he  would 
be  kind  to  him,  and  has  left  you  all  his 
books.  He  has,  moreover,  bequeathed  to 
the  chaplain  a  very  pretty  tenement  with 
good  lands  about  it.  It  being  a  very  cold 
day  when  he  made  his  will,  he  left  for 
mourning,  to  every  man  in  the  parish,  a 
great  frieze  coat,  and  to  every  woman,  a 
black  riding-hood.  It  was  a  most  moving 
sight  to  see  him  take  leave  of  his  poor 
servants,  commending  us  all  for  our  fidel- 
ity, whilst  we  were  not  able  to  speak  a 
word  for  weeping.  As  we  most  of  us  are 
grown  gray-headed  in  our  dear  master's 
service,  he  has  left  us  pensions  and  lega- 
cies, which  we  may  live  very  comfortably 
upon,  the  remaining  part  of  our  days. 
He  has  bequeathed  a  great  deal  more  in 
charity,  which  is  not  yet  come  to  my 
knowledge,  and  it  is  peremptorily  said  in 
the  parish,  that  he  has  left  money  to 
build  a  steeple  to  the  church ;  for  he  was 
heard  to  say  some  time  ago,  that  if  he 
lived  two  years  longer,  Coverley  church 
should  have  a  steeple  to  it.  The  chaplain 
tells  everybody  that  he  made  a  very 
good  end,  and  never  speaks  of  him  with- 
out tears.  He  was  buried  according  to 
his  own  directions,  among  the  family  of 
the  Coverleys,  on  the  left  hand  of  his 
father  Sir  Arthur.  The  coffin  was  carried 
by  six  of  his  tenants,  and  the  pall  held 
up  by  six  of  the  quorum :  the  whole  par- 

12 


178 


SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


ish  followed  the  corpse  with  heavy  hearts, 
and  in  their  mourning  suits,  the  men  in 
frieze,  and  the  women  in  riding  hoods. 
Captain  Sentry,  my  master's  nephew, 
has  taken  possession  of  the  hall -house, 
and  the  whole  estate.1  When  my  old 
master  saw  him  a  little  before  his  death, 
he  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  wished 
him  joy  of  the  estate  which  was  falling  to 
him,  desiring  him  only  to  make  a  good 
use  of  it,  and  to  pay  the  several  legacies, 
and  the  gifts  of  charity  which  he  told  him 
he  had  left  as  quit-rents  upon  the  estate. 
The  captain  truly  seems  a  courteous  man, 
though  he  says  but  little.  He  makes 
much  of  those  whom  my  master  loved, 
and  shows  great  kindnesses  to  the  old 
house-dog,  that  you  know  my  poor  mas- 
ter was  so  fond  of.  It  would  have  gone 
to  your  heart  to  have  heard  the  moans 
the  dumb  creature  made  on  the  day  of 
my  master's  death.  He  has  never  joyed 
himself  since ;  no  more  has  any  of  us. 
'Twas  the  melancholiest  day  for  the  poor 
people  that  ever  happened  in  Worcester- 
shire. This  is  all  from, 

"  Honored  Sir, 
"  Your  most  sorrowful  servant, 

"  Edward  Biscuit. 

"  P.  S. — My  master  desired,  some  weeks 
before  he  died,  that  a  book  which  comes 
up  to  you  by  the  carrier  should  be  given 
to  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  in  his  name." 

This  letter,  notwithstanding  the  poor 

1  The  544th  number  of  the  Spectator  (Nov.  24th,  1712) 
contains  a  letter  from  the  new  Esquire,  in  which  he 
says,  "  I  cannot  reflect  upon  his  [Sir  Roger's]  character 
but  I  am  confirmed  in  the  truth  which  I  have,  I  think, 
heard  spoken  at  the  club ;  to  wit,  that  a  man  of  a  warm 
and  well-disposed  heart,  with  a  very  small  capacity,  is 
highly  superior  in  human  society  to  him  who  with  the 
greatest  talents  is  cold  and  languid  in  his  affections. 
But,  alas!  why  do  I  make  a  difficulty  in  speaking  of 
my  worthy  ancestor's  failings?  His  little  absurdities 
and  incapacity  for  the  conversation  of  the  politest  men 
are  dead  with  him,  and  his  greater  qualities  are  even 
now  useful  to  him.  I  know  not  whether  by  naming 
those  disabilities  I  do  not  enhance  his  merit,  since  he 
has  left  behind  him  a  reputation  in  his  country  which 
would  be  worth  the  pains  of  the  wisest  man's  whole 
life  to  arrive  at." — "  I  have  continued  all  Sir  Roger's 
servants  except  such  as  it  was  a  relief  to  dismiss  unto 
little  livings  within  my  manor;  those  who  are  in  a  list 
•f  the  good  Knight's  own  hand  to  be  taken  care  of  by 
me  I  have  quartered  upon  suck  as  have  taken  new 
leases  of  me,  and  added  so  many  advantages  during  the 
lives  of  the  persons  so  quartered,  that  it  is  the  interest 
of  those  whom  they  are  joined  with  to  cherish  and  be- 
friend them  on  all  occasions." 


butler's  manner  of  writing  it,  gave  us  such 
an  idea  of  our  good  old  friend,  that  upon 
the  reading  of  it  there  was  not  a  dry  eye 
in  the  club.  Sir  Andrew  opening  the 
book,  found  it  to  be  a  collection  of  acts  of 
Parliament.  There  was  in  particular  the 
act  of  uniformity,  with  some  passages  in 
it  marked  by  Sir  Roger's  own  hand.  Sir 
Andrew  found  that  they  related  to  two  ot 
three  points,  which  he  had  disputed  with 
Sir  Roger  the  last  time  he  appeared  at  the 
club.  Sir  Andrew,  who  would  have  been 
merry  at  such  an  incident  on  another 
occasion,  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man's 
hand-writing  burst  into  tears,  and  put  the 
book  into  his  pocket.  Captain  Sentry  in- 
forms us,  that  the  Knight  has  left  rings 
and  mourning  for  every  one  in  the  club. 

END  OF  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET. 


A  BANKER'S  WIT. 

COULD  anything  be  wittier — for  a 
banker — than  the  following  neat  reply  of 
Baron  Rothschild,  told  by  ArsSne  Houa- 
saye?  One  of  his  friends,  of  the  third 
degree,  a  sort  of  banker,  came  to  borrow 
$2,000.  "  Here  it  is,"  said  the  baron, 
"  but  remember,  that  as  a  rule,  I  only 
lend  to  crowned  heads.'1  M.  de  Roth- 
schild never  dreamed  of  seeing  his  money 
again,  but,  wonderful  to  relate,  at  the 
end  of  a  month  the  borrower  came  back 
with  his  $2,000.  The  baron  could  scarcely 
believe  his  eyes ;  but  he  foreboded  that 
this  was  not  the  end.  Sure  enough,  a 
month  later  the  borrower  re-appeared, 
asking  for  the  loan  of  $4,000.  "  No,  no," 
said  the  baron;  "you  disappointed  me 
once  by  paying  me  that  money.  I  do  not 
want  to  be  disappointed  again." 


THE  first  dandy  was  made  by  Dame 
Nature,  out  of  the  refuse  matter  left  from 
making  Adam  and  Eve.  He  was  con- 
cocted with  a  bouquet  in  one  hand  and  a 
looking-glass  in  the  other.  His  heart 
was  dissected  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
and  found  to  be  a  pincushion  full  of  but- 
terflies and  sawdust.  He  never  falls  in 
love,  for  to  love  requires  both  brains  and 
a  soul,  and  the  dandy  has  neither.  He  is  a 
long-lived  bird  ;  he  has  no  courage,  never 
marries,  has  no  virtues,  and  is  never  guilty 
of  first-class  vices. — JOSH  BILLINGS. 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


179 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


THE  LAWYERS  AND  THE  CAT. 

Two  Arkansas  lawyers  were  domesti- 
cated in  the  rude  hotel  of  a  country  town. 
The  hotel  was  crowded,  and  the  room 
allotted  to  our  heroes  was  also  occupied 
by  six  or  eight  others.  Shake  down  beds, 
enough  to  accommodate  the  guests,  were 
disposed  about  the  room,  against  the  four 
walls,  leaving  an  open  space  in  the  centre 
of  the  apartment. 

Judge  Clark  lay  with  his  head  to  the 
north,  on  one  side,  and  Judge  Thomas  lay 
with  his  head  to  the  south,  on  the  other 
Bide  of  the  room.  So  far  as  that  room  was 
concerned,  it  might  be  said  that  their 
heads  represented  the  north  and  south 
poles  respectively. 

All  the  other  beds  in  the  room  were 
occupied.  The  central  part  of  the  room 
was  deemed  neutral  ground,  in  which  the 
occupants  of  the  different  beds  had  equal 
rights.  Here,  in  picturesque  confusion, 
lay  the  boots,  hats,  coats,  and  breeches  of 
the  sleepers.  There  were  no  windows,  and 
though  the  door  was  open,  there  being  no 
moon,  the  night  was  very  dark  in  that 
room. 

The  wily  lawyers,  who  had  been  oppos- 
ing counsel  in  a  case  tried  in  the  town 
court  that  day,  and  had  opposed  each 
Other  with  the  contumacity  of  wild  pigs, 
were  now  the  very  incarnations  of  meek- 
ness, for  when  the  hungry  swarm  of  mos- 
quitoes settled  down  and  bit  them  on  the 
cheek  they  slowly  turned  the  other  to  be 
bitten  also. 

But  hush !  hark ! 

A  deep  sound  strikes  the  ear  like  a 
rising  knell. 

"  Me-ow-ow ! " 

Judges  Clark  and  Thomas  were  wide 
awake,  and  sitting  bolt  upright  in  an  in- 
stant. 

Again  the  startling  cry  I 

"  Ye-ow,  ye-ow ! " 

"  That's  a  cat !"  whispered  Clark.  «  Scat 
you  I "  hissed  Thomas. 

Cat  paid  no  attention  to  these  demon- 
strations, but  gave  vent  to  another  yowl. 

"  Oh,  gracious ! "  cried  Clark,  "  I  can't 
stand  this !  Where  is  he,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  On  your  side  of  the  room  somewhere," 
replied  Thomas. 


"  No,  he's  on  your  side,"  said  Clark. 

"  Ye-ow-ow-ow ! " 

"  There  I  told  you  he  was  on  your  side," 
they  both  exclaimed  in  a  breath. 

And  still  the  howl  went  on. 

The  idea  now  entered  the  heads  of  both 
the  lawyers,  that  by  the  exercise  of  a  cer% 
tain  strategy  they  might  be  enabled  to 
execute  a  certain  flank  movement  on  the 
cat,  and  totally  demoralize  him.  Practi- 
cally each  determined  to  file  "  a  motion  to 
quash  "  the  cat's  attachment  for  that  room. 

Each  kept  his  plan  to  himself,  and  in 
the  dark,  unable  to  see  each  other,  pre- 
pared for  action. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  it  is  neverthe- 
less true,  that  the  same  plan  suggested  it- 
self to  both.  In  words,  tne  plan  would  be 
about  as  follows : 

The  yowler  is  evidently  looking  and 
calling  for  another  cat,  with  whom  he  hag 
made  an  appointment.  I  will  imitate  a 
cat,  and  this  cat  will  think  t'other  cat's 
around.  This  cat  will  come  toward  me, 
and  when  he  shall  have  arrived  within 
reach,  I'll  blaze  away  with  anything  I  can 

Set  hold  of,  and  knock  the  mew-sic  out  of 
im. 

So  each  of  the  portly  judges,  noiselessly 
as  cream  comes  to  the  surface  of  the  milk, 
hoisted  himself  on  to  his  hands  and  knees, 
and  hippopotamus  fashion  advanced  to 
the  neutral  ground  occupying  the  central 
portion  of  the  room. 

Arriving  there  Judge  Clark  selected  a 
boot-jack,  and  Judge  Thomas  a  heavy  cow 
hide  boot  from  the  heap,  and  settled  them- 
selves down  to  the  work. 

Clark  tightened  his  g^rip  on  the  boot- 
jack, and  throwing  up  his  head,  gave  vent 
to  a  prolonged  and  unearthly  "ye-ow-ow  " 
that  would  have  reflected  credit  upon  ten 
of  the  largest  kind  of  cats. 

"  Aha,"  thought  Thomas,  who  was  not 
six  feet  away,  "he's  immediately  close 
around.  Now  I'll  inveigle  him !"  and  he 
gave  the  regular  dark-night  call  of  a  fem» 
mine  cat. 

Each  of  the  judges  advanced  a  little 
closer,  and  Clark  produced  a  questioning 
"Ow-ow!" 

Thomas  answered  by  a  reassuring  "  pu- 
row-purow ! "  and  they  advanced  a  little 
more. 

They  were  now  within  easy  reach,  and 
each  imagining  the  cat  had  but  a  moment 
more  to  live,  whaled  away,  the  one  with 
his  boot,  the  other  with  his  boot-lack. 


180 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


The  boot  took  Clark  square  in  the 
mouth,  demolishing  his  teeth,  and  the 
boot-jack  came  down  on  Thomas's  head 
just  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  triumphant 
"  ye-ow  J " 

When  the  lights  were  brought  the  cat 
had  disappeared,  but  the  catastrophe  was  in 
the  opposite  corners  of  the  room,  with 
heels  in  the  air,  swearing  blue  streaks. 


NOVEL  REPLY  TO   A  CHALLENGE. 

SARGENT  S.  PRENTISS  was  no  duelist 
on  principle,  but  he  accepted  the  custom 
as  it  prevailed  in  his  day  in  Mississippi  as  a 
necessity,  and  acted  accordingly.  As  he 
rose  in  his  profession  he,  of  course,  made 
business  and  political  enemies,  and,  as  a 
last  resort  to  put  him  down,  recourse  was 
had  to  the  laws  of  honor."  Being  a 
"  Yankee,"  in  the  Southern  acceptation  of 
the  word,  it  was  presumed  that  "  he  would 
not  fight ;  "  and  if  he  refused,  it  was  held 
that,  as  he  would  be  disgraced,  his  over- 
whelming influence  would  be  lost.  To 
make  the  whole  thing  as  unpalatable  as 
possible  to  Mr.  Prentiss,  a  wretched  crea- 
ture who  lived  in  Vicksburg,  who,  though 
once  respectable,  had  lost  every  thing  but 
a  certain  physical  courage  that  made  him 
willing  to  take  the  chances  of  a  duel  with  a 
man  of  brilliant  character  who  had  never 
fired  a  pistol,  was  selected  to  presume  an 
insult  and  send  a  challenge.  Upon  re- 
ceiving the  "message"  Mr.  Preutiss  at 
once  comprehended  the  depth  of  the  plot ; 
he  was  expected  to  bear  the  degradation  of 
not  only  "backing  down,"  but  the  addi- 
tional mortification  of  doing  it  to  an  in- 
dividual who  was  socially  beneath  con- 
tempt. Having  read  the  challenge  at- 
tentively, he  said  he  would  return  an 
answer  at  the  proper  time.  The  following 
morning  Mr.  Prentiss  made  up  a  bundle, 
with  a  letter  neatly  tied  on  the  outside, 
and  by  the  hands  of  his  servant  sent  it  to 
the  challenger.  The  principal  and  his 
friends  were  confounded  at  such  a  pro- 
ceeding. "Certainly,"  said  they,  "Mr. 
Prentiss  must  be  profoundly  ignorant  of 
the  '  laws  of  honor,'  else  he  would  not 
send  an  answer  to  a  challenge  by  the 
hands  of  a  nigger  ; "  but  the  reading  of 
the  note  set  the  matter  at  rest.  It  read  as 
follows : 

"Mr. ,  I  have  received  your  chal- 


lenge to  mortal  combat;  before  I  can 
accept  it,  I  insist  that  you  shall  have  at 
least  one  quality  of  a  gentleman,  viz.,  be 
habited  in  a  clean  shirt,  which  desirable 
article  I  send  you  by  the  honest  bearer  of 
this  note.  Thus  strengthened  in  your 
social  position  by  a  single  quality  that 
makes  you  worthy  of  my  notice,  I  will 
then  proceed  to  arrange  farther  pre- 
liminaries." 

It  is  useless  to  say  that  the  duel  did  not 
take  place. 


AN  AMERICAN   RIVAL  TO   CURRAN. 

CURRAN'S  witticism  in  furnishing  the 
motto  "  Quid  rides  "  for  the  carriage  of  a 
rich  tobacconist  was  equaled — to  our  mind 
surpassed — by  one  from  S.  H.  Hammond, 
formerly  District  Attorney  of  Albany 
County,  New  York.  In  the  city  of  Albany, 
where  the  court  is  held,  there  used  to  be 
in  the  Circuit  Court  a  venerable  old  crier, 
who  had  held  the  office  for  many  years, 
and  was  a  universal  favorite  with  the  bar. 
He  was  always  courteous  and  obliging, 
and  among  his  voluntary  ex-offido  duties 
was  that  of  supplying  the  lawyers  with 
tobacco  out  of  a  well-filled  box  which  he 
always  carried.  When  S.  H.  Hammond 
closed  his  last  term  as  District  Attorney 
in  Albany  County,  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  kindly  services  of  the  ancient 
crier,  he  presented  him  with  an  elegant 
silver  tobacco-box,  on  which  was  engraven 
this  motto : 

"  Quid  pro  quo." 

Mr.  Hammond  was  once  trying  a  ease 
before  Judge  Bacon,  of  the  Fifth  Judicial 
District  (New  York),  and  in  questioning 
a  witness  named  Gunn,  said  to  him  when 
he  had  finished  his  examination, 

"  Mr.  Gunn  you  can  go  off." 

Judge  Bacon  saw  the  pun,  and  quickly 
added, 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gunn,  you  are  discharged." 

Of  course  there  was  an  explosion  in 
court. 


HUNG"   JURY. 


AMONG  the  dispensers  of  justice  in  a 
certain  central  ward  of  old  St.  Louis,  dur- 
ing its  unpretending,  "  even-handed " 

days,   was  Squire    W .      His    astute 

comprehension  of,  and  rigid  adherence  to, 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


vsi 


legal  proprieties  are  yet  recollected.  A 
case  was  submitted  to  him,  "once  on  a 
time ; "  but,  his  decision  not  satisfying 
one  of  the  parties  (very  likely  to  occur,  by- 
the-by,  even  in  primitive  ages),  the  case 
was  "  continued  ;  "  which  further  step, 
according  to  the  rule  in  justices'  courts, 
now  as  then,  involves  the  ceremony  and 
expense  of  a  jury. 

The  second  trial  came  on,  unfortunately, 
upon  a  morning  which,  for  some  good 
cause  or  other,  the  whole  town  had  de- 
voted to  jubilee  and  rejoicing — whether  it 
was  that  a  great  man  was  to  be  "re- 
ceived," or  another  great  man  dismissed, 
it  is  immaterial ;  suffice  it  that  guns  and 
drums  equally  did  their  duty  in  calling 
the  citizens  away  from  theirs. 

Plaintiff  and  defendant  were  punctual 
in  their  attendance  before  the  justice, 
anxious  to  settle  their  difference — just  as 
anxious  to  have  their  share  of  the  show — 
and  the  officer  was  despatched  to  collect  a 
jury ;  but  after  a  no  less  anxious  search, 
he  was  obliged  to  return  without  a  man,  his 
summons  going  for  nothing  in  the  general 
excitement. 

Impatient  at  the  delay,  the  parties  liti- 
gant agreed  to  waive  the  matter  of  a  jury 
altogether;  to  just  re-argue  the  matter 
and  abide  by  "  His  Honor's  "  decision.  But 
His  Honor  had  his  own  more  reverend 
parade,  of  the  law  to  enjoy,  and  therefore, 
with  a  chief  justice  air,  he  declared  that 
inasmuch  as  the  case  had  been  continued, 
and  that  the  purpose  of  said  continuance 
was  entirely  to  obtain  the  sense  of  &  jury, 
it  would  be  all  nonsense  to  proceed  in  any 
less  regular  way.  "  Therefore,  Mr.  Con- 
stable,'1 continued  the  Squire,  "you 
will,  by  virtue  of  your  authori-ty,  summon 
and  compel  the  presence  of  a  jury  forth- 
with." 

The  constable  again  set  forth,  the 
"  bench "  relapsed  into  abstruse  cogita- 
tion, and  the  plaiutiffand  defendant  were 
fain  to  content  themselves  with  the  hope 
of  getting  clear  "  after  a  while." 

Wearily  went  the  moments;  but  at 
length,  the  indefatigable  officer,  bathed  in 
perspiration,  returned,  having  secured  one 
well-known,  easy-going  citizen,  remark- 
able as  being  the  largest,  lovingest,  and 
laziest  man  about  town. 

"Squire,"  said  the  panting  official, 
"  I've  gotten  Bob,  'cause  he  says  it  don't 
make  much  difference  to  him;  but  there 
isn't  nary  nother  as  don't  say  they'll  see 


me  d d  first,  and  so  the  thing's  out,  as 

far  as  my  footin'  on  it  goes,  I  reckon  ! '' 
The  constable  wiped  his  brow  with  de- 
termination, the  justice  began  to  foresee  ^ 
dilemma,  and  nothing  but  the  "costs" 
prevented  "  the  parties,'1  in  spite  of  then 
attorneys,  from  flipping  up  "  head  or  tail ' 
for  an  issue. 

At  length,  the  constable  made  a  sug 
gestion,  which  the  parties  eagerly  con 
senting  to,  the  Squire  finally  sanctioned.. 
This  was,  that  Bob,  the  lazy  gentleman 
just  mentioned,  should  serve  as  jury  all 
alone  by  himself! 

All  was  settled  at  once ;  the  lazy  gentle- 
man declared  that  it "  made  no  difference," 
and  getting  a  "  chew  "  from  the  constable, 
down  he  sat.  The  pleadings  were  de- 
spatched ;  the  jury  was  charged ;  the 
approaching  procession  was  heard  in  the 
distance,  and  all  parties  were  only  waiting 
to  hear  the  verdict,  when  the  jury,  after 
one  or  two  indolent  hitches  in  his  chair, 
and  a  leisurely  discharge  of  tobacco  juice 
from  between  his  teeth,  turned  to  the 
court,  and  said — 

"  Well,  I  reckon,  Squire,  the  jury  '11 
have  to  retire.'' 

This  was  unexpected,  and  had  not  been 
altogether  the  mode,  either,  in  Justice 

W 's  court,  inasmuch  as  there  was  no 

place  for  the  jury  to  retire  to  except  with- 
in themselves ;  but  the  present  body  was 
unanimously  of  opinion  that  he  ought  to 
have  a  fair  shake  at  the  merits  of  the  case, 
and  so  ihecourt  adjourned  to  the  sidewalk, 
leaving  the  jury  all  to  himself,  with  his 
heels  on  the  table. 

Moment  after  moment  passed  away ; 
the  litigants  every  now  and  then  cast  a 
glance  in  at  the  conscientious  umpire; 
the  procession  was  evidently  approacning 
along  the  next  street,  and  suddenly,  the 
"  opposite  counsel  "  excusing  themselves, 
walked  off  towards  the  corner.  Drums, 
hurrahs,  etc.,  now  began  to  swell  upon  the 
air,  and  plaintiff  and  defendant,  after 
sundry  inquiries  as  to  the  chances,  even 
marched  off  also,  leaving  the  Squire  and 
constable  to  receive  the  verdict.  The 
constable  next  became  impatient,  and, 
finally,  the  Squire  himself  got  the  fidgets ; 
each  moment  seemed  an  age,  until  the 
dubious  twelfth  was  just  asked  if  he  was 
" going  to  take  the  whole  day  or  not?  " 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  Squire,  the  jury 
can't  agree,  no  how.  We're  just  hung,  and 
no  mistake ;  and,  if  you  can't  let  us  stay 


182 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


out,  why  you'd  better  discharge  us,  by 
thunder! " 
The  jury  was  discharged ! 

J.  M.  FIELD  ("  Everpoint"). 


ANECDOTE  OF  GENERAL  CA8S. 

JOHN  GUY  bore  a  striking  resemblance 
co  General  Lewis  Cass,  and  while  he  was 
proprietor  of  the  National  Hotel,  in 
Washington,  the  Michigan  Senator  was 
among  his  favored  guests.  Guy  dressed 
like  Cass,  and  although  not  as  portly,  his 
face,  including  the  wart,  was  strangely 
similar.  One  day  a  Western  friend  of 
the  house  came  in,  after  a  long  ride,  dusty 
and  tired,  and  walking  up  to  the  office, 
encountered  General  Cass,  who  was 
quietly  standing  there.  Mistaking  him 
for  Guy,  he  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  exclaimed :  "  Well,  old  fellow,  here  I 
am  ;  the  last  time  I  hung  my  hat  up  in 
your  shanty,  one  of  your  clerks  sent  me 
to  the  fourth  story  ;  but  now  that  I  have 
got  hold  of  you,  I  insist  upon  a  lower 
room."  The  General,  a  most  dignified 
person,  taken  aback  by  this  startling 
salute,  coldly  replied  :  "  You  have  com- 
mitted a  mistake,  sir.  I  am  not  Mr.  Guy ; 
I  am  General  Cass,  of  Michigan,1'  and 
angrily  turned  away.  The  Western  man 
was  shocked  at  the  unconscious  mistake 
he  had  committed ;  but  before  he  had  re- 
covered from  his  mortification,  General 
Cass,  who  had  passed  around  the  office, 
confronted  him  again,  when,  a  second 
time  mistaking  him  for  Guy,  he  faced 
him,  and  said :  "  Here  you  are,  at  last.  I 
have  just  made  a  big  mistake;  I  met  old 
Cass,  and  took  him  for  you,  and  I  am 
afraid  he  has  gone  off  mad."  What 
General  Cass  would  have  said  may  be 
imagined,  if  the  real  Guy  had  not  ap- 
proached and  rescued  the  innocent  offend- 
er from  the  twice-assailed  and  twice- 
angered  statesman. 


HOW  LONG. 

A  CHICAGO  paper  says :  During  a  re- 
cent trial  before  Justice  Dougherty,  it  was 
thought  important  by  counsel  to  de- 
termine the  length  of  time  that  certain 
"  two  quarters  of  beef,  two  hogs  and 
sheep  "  remained  in  an  express  wagon  in 


front  of  plaintiffs  store  before  they  were 
taken  away  by  the  defendant. 

The  witness  under  examination  was  a 
German,  whose  knowledge  of  the  English 
language  was  very  limited  ;  but  he 
testified  in  a  very  plain,  straightforward 
way  to  having  weighed  the  meat,  and  to 
having  afterward  carried  it  out  and  put  it 
into  the  aforesaid  wagon.  Then  the  fol- 
lowing ensued : 

Counsellor  Enos — State  to  the  jury  how 
long  it  was  after  you  took  the  meat  from 
the  store  and  put  it  into  the  wagon  before 
it  was  taken  away. 

Witness — Now  I  shoost  can  dell  dat.  I 
dinks  'bout  dwelve  feet.  I  not  say  nearer 
as  dat. 

Counsel — You  don't  understand  me. 
How  long  was  it  from  the  time  the  meat 
left  the  store  and  was  put  into  the  wagon 
before  it  was  taken  away  by  defendant? 

Witness — Now  I  know  not  what  you  ax 
dat  for.  Der  vagon  he  was  up  mit  der 
sidewalk,  and  dat's  shoost  so  long  as  it 
vas.  You  tell  me  how  long  der  sidewalk 
vas.  Den  feet?  Dwelve  feet?  Den  I 
tells  you  how  long  it  vas. 

Counsel — I  don't  want  to  find  out  how 
wide  the  sidewalk  was,  but  I  want  to  know 
(speaking  very  slowly)  how — long — thia 
— meat — was — in — the — wagon — before — • 
it — was — taken—  away. 

Witness— Oh!  dat!  Veil  now,  I  not 
sold  any  meat  so.  I  all  time  weigh  him, 
never  measured  meat,  not  yet.  But  I 
dinks  about  dree  feet.  (Here  the  spec- 
tators, and  his  honor,  and  the  jury  smiled 
audibly.)  I  know  not,  shentlemens,  how 
is  dis ;  I  dell  you  all  I  can,  so  goot  as  I 
know. 

Counsel — Look  here,  I  want  to  know 
how  long  it  was  before  the  meat  was  taken 
away  after  it  was  put  into  the  wagon. 

Witness — (looking  very  knowingly  at 
counsel.)  Now  you  try  and  get  me  into  a 
scrape.  Dat  meat  vas  shoost  so  long  in 
der  vagon  as  he  vas  in  der  shop.  Dat's 
all  I  told  you.  Dat  meat  was  dead  meat. 
He  don't  got  no  longer  in  den  t'ousan* 
year,  not  mooch. 

Counsel — That  will  do. 


WADE   AND  GIDDINGS. 

IN  "  Bench  and  Bar,"  Mr.  L.  J.  Bige- 
low  tells  this  anecdote.    Hon.  Benjamin 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


183 


F.  Wade,  and  the  late  Hon.  Joshua  R. 
Giddings  used  to  be  constant  competitors 
at  the  bar  in  "  old  benighted  Ashtabula," 
their  place  of  residence.  In  the  early  part 
of  his  practice,  Wade  was  defending  a 
man  against  an  action  of  slander,  and, 
after  having  concluded  a  very  effective 
speech  to  the  jury,  sat  awkwardly  leaning 
backward,  his  feet  on  the  counsel  table, 
and  facing  Giddings,  who  was  attempting 
to  be  eloquent  in  behalf  of  his  slandered 
client.  "  Old  Gid,"  as  he  was  familiarly 
called,  knew  a  little  smattering  of  Shak- 
speare,  and  now  determined  to  bring  that 
great  author  to  his  aid. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  he  with 
ardor, 

"  He  that  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash  ; 
But  he  that  robs  me  of  my  good  name — " 

(Ahem !) 

At  this  point,  to  his  great  discomfiture, 
Shakspeare  deserted  him.  He  repeated : 

"  But  he  that  robs  me  of  my  good  name — " 

(Another  pause.) 

"Takes  that  I  never  had,"  whispered 
Wade,  as  if  prompting  him,  and  so  dis- 
tinctly as  to  be  heard  by  all  in  the  room. 

Amid  the  laughter  and  his  own  con- 
fusion, Giddings  brought  his  speech  to 
such  a  "  lame  and  impotent  conclusion," 
that  his  client  recovered  but  six  and 
a  quarter  cents  for  his  lost  character. 


A  GOOD   LEGISLATIVE  STORY. 

SPEAKING  of  the  ayes  and  noes  reminds 
us  of  a  story  which  may  not  prove  un- 
acceptable to  legislative  ears.  Mike 
Walsh, — he  who  made  it  lively  in  the 
lower  House  several  decades  ago, — is 
the  hero  of  it.  One  evening,  the  21st  of 
February,  184 — ,  Mike  occupied  the  chair 
in  Committee  of  the  Whole,  while  a  bill 
was  being  considered  having  something 
to  do  with  Indian  affairs.  The  bill  called 
out  considerable  debate,  and  prominent 
among  those  who  proposed  to  make  the 
discussion  lengthy,  was  a  green  and  gush- 
ing law-maker  who  embraced  each  and 
every  occasion  to  give  vent  to  his  im- 
passioned eloquence.  On  this  Indian  bill 
he  evidently  intended  to  spread  himself. 
A  roll  of  manuscript  lay  on  his  desk  to 
which  he  frequently  referred  while  his 


fellow-members  were  talking,  and  at 
length  it  got  to  be  noised  about  that  the 

Hon.  Mr. was  to  make  an  elaborate 

speech  before  the  committee.  The  ladies' 
gallery  was  filled  with  sweet  inspirations, 
and  the  gentlemen's  gallery  did  not  lack 
the  many  boots  that  make  rapturous  ap- 
plause. Those  who  had  any  objections  to 
the  Indian  bill  stated  them  as  concisely  a» 
possible,  and  sat  down  so  as  to  leave  a 
smooth  and  unclaimed  floor  for  the  orator 
of  the  evening.  At  length  he  arose, 
spreading  out  his  manuscript  before  him 
on  his  desk,  and  placing  the  glass  of  ice 
water  brought  him  by  a  page,  within  easy 
reach.  He  began  by  remarking  on  the 
rush  of  memories  brought  to  mind  in  con- 
sidering what  evening  it  was  on  which 
they  were  then  assembled,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded as  follows : 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen,  on  this 
Washington's  birthday  eve,  we  who  are 
assembled  here  for  the  good  of  our  own 
special  State,  are  forcibly  reminded  of  the 
Father  of  his  Country  who  fought,  bled, 
and  labored  incessantly  and  with  thorough 
devotion  for  the  good  of  all  the  States." 
At  this  point  in  his  remarks  the  fluent 
speaker  was  interrupted  by  hearty  ap- 

Elause ;  he  took  advantage  of  it  to  moisten 
is  lips  with  a  little  ice  water,  and  then 
proceeded  with  a  reference  to  the  full 
length  portrait  of  George  Washington, 
which  hung  then  as  it  hangs  now,  just  be- 
hind the  Speaker's  chair.  "  Behold,"  said 
he,  "  that  picture  yonder,  which  stands  a 
perpetual  reminder  of  the  virtues  of  patri- 
otism, and  self-sacrifice.  0  lips  of  our 
first  president,  speak  to  us  now  with  some 
golden  motto  of  duty  I  Nose,  whose 
nostrils  have  breathed  defiance  at  the 
enemies  of  the  country.  Eyes,  whose 
lightning  glances  were  so  magnetic,  we  call 
for  thee  and  the  rest  of  that  noble  form  to 
be  potent  in  our  presence  now,  and  during 

all  our  session  to " 

The  rest,  residue  and  remainder  of  the 
sentence  was  not  spoken,  for  at  this  point 
the  chairman,  Mike  Walsh,  brought  down 
his  gavel  and  announced,  "  The  gentle- 
man from is  out  of  order  in  making 

the  request  he  does.  The  ayes  and  noes  can- 
not be  called  for  in  Committee  of  the  Wliole." 
Those  who  were  present  when  Mike 
made  that  ruling  will  never  forget  the 
scene  it  provoked.  Ladies'  and  gentle- 
men's galleries,  the  floor  and  the  lobbies, 
broke  into  a  roar  and  yell  of  laughta? 


184 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


which  could  not  be  restrained  under  ten 
minutes.  The  gushing  law-maker  did  not 
resume  after  this  interruption, — although 
Mike  very  kindly  said,  "  the  gentleman 

from will  proceed  in  order."  He  was 

seized  with  a  sudden  attack  of  not  feeling 
very  well  and  withdrew.  His  views  on 
that  Indian  bill  were  never  known. 


GUILTY — BUT  DRUNK. 

IT  is  a  well-known  fact  that  oftentimes 
both  those  jokes  which  are  called  "  practi- 
cal'1 and  that  liquor  which  is  termed 
"  bad/'  have  been  productive  of  exceed- 
ingly evil  consequences  ;  but  whether  the 
liquor  or  the  joke  has  done  the  most  mis- 
chief, we  are  not  called  upon  just  now 
to  determine.  We  propose  to  make  men- 
tion of  an  affair  where  bad  liquor  and  a 
practical  joke  were  productive  of  the  very 
best  consequences  imaginable. 

Many  years  ago,  while  the  State  of 
Georgia  was  still  in  its  infancy,  an  ec- 
centric creature  named  Brown,  was  one  of 
its  Circuit  Judges.  He  was  a  man  of  con- 
siderable ability,  of  inflexible  integrity, 
and  much  beloved  and  respected  by  all 
the  legal  profession,  but  he  had  one  com- 
mon fault.  His  social  qualities  would 
lead  him,  despite  his  judgment,  into  fre- 
quent excesses.  In  travelling  the  Circuit, 
it  was  his  almost  invariable  habit,  the 
night  before  opening  the  Court,  to  get 
"comfortably  corned,"  by  means  of  ap- 
pliances common  upon  such  occasions.  If 
he  couldn't  succeed  while  operating  upon 
his  own  hook,  the  members  of  the  bar 
would  generally  turn  in  and  help  him. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  taking 
his  wife — a  model  of  a  woman  in  her  way 
— in  the  old-fashioned,  but  strong"  carry- 
all," that  he  journeyed  some  forty  miles, 
and  reached  a  village  where  "  Court ''  was 
to  be  opened  next  day.  It  was  along  in 
the  evening  of  Sunday  that  he  arrived  at 
the  place  and  took  up  quarters  with  a  re- 
lation of  his  "  better  half,"  by  whom  the 
presence  of  an  official  dignitary  was  con- 
sidered a  singular  honor.  After  supper, 
Judge  Brown  strolled  over  to  the  only 
tavern  in  the  town,  where  he  found  many 
old  friends,  called  to  the  place,  like  him- 
self, on  important  professional  business, 
and  who  were  properly  glad  to  meet  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said   the  Judge,  "  'tis 


quite  a  long  time  since  we  have  enjoyed  a 
glass  together — let  us  take  a  drink  all 
round.  Of  course,  Sterritt  (addressing 
the  landlord),  you  have  better  liquor  than 
you  had  the  last  time  we  were  here — 
the  stuff  you  had  then  was  not  fit  to  give 
a  dog  I " 

Sterritt,  who  had  charge  of  the  house, 
pretended  that  every  thing  was  right,  and 
so  they  went  to  work.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  enlarge  upon  a  drinking  bout  in  a 
country  tavern — it  will  quite  answer  our 
purpose  to  state  that  somewhere  in  the 
region  of  midnight  the  Judge  wended  his 
very  devious  way  towards  his  temporary 
home.  About  the  time  he  was  leaving, 
however,  some  younger  barristers,  fond  of 
a  "  practical,"  and  not  much  afraid  of  the 
bench,  transferred  all  the  silver  spoons  of 
Sterritt  to  the  Judge's  coat  pocket. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  on  Monday  morn- 
ing that  the  Judge  rose.  Having  indulged 
in  the  process  of  ablution  and  abstertion, 
and  partaken  of  a  cheerful  and  refreshing 
breakfast,  he  went  to  his  room  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  duties  of  the  day. 

"Well,  Polly,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  "I 
feel  much  better  than  I  expected  to  feel 
after  that  frolic  of  last  night." 

"  Ah,  Judge,1'  said  she,  reproachfully, 
"  you  are  getting  too  old — you  ought  to 
leave  off  that  business." 

"  Ah,  Polly !  what's  the  use  of  talking  ?" 

It  was  at  this  precise  instant  of  time, 
that  the  Judge,  having  put  on  his  over- 
coat, was  proceeding,  according  to  his 
usual  custom,  to  give  his  wife  a  parting 
kiss,  that  he  happened  in  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  to  lay  hold  of  Ster- 
ritt's  spoons.  He  jerked  them  out.  With 
an  expression  of  horror  almost  indescrib- 
able he  exclaimed — 

"My  God!  Polly!" 

"  What  on  earth's  the  matter,  Judge?'* 

"  Just  look  at  these  spoons ! 

"Dear  me,  where  d'ye  get  them?" 

"  Get  them  ?  Don't  you  see  the  in- 
itials on  them  ?  " — extending  them  towards 
her—"  I  stole  them  ! " 

"Stole  them,  Judge?" 

"Yes,  stole  them! " 

"  My  dear  husband,  it  can't  be  possible ! 
from  whom  ?" 

"  From  Sterritt,  over  there ;  his  name 
is  on  them." 

"  Good  heavens  1  how  could  it  happen  ?" 

"  I  know  very  well,  Polly — I  was  very 
drunk  when  I  came  home,  wasn't  I?" 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


"  Why,  Judge,  you  know  your  old  habit 
when  you  get  among  those  lawyers." 

"  But  was  I  very  drunk  ?  " 

"Yes,  you  was.'1 

"  Waa  I  remarkably  drunk  when  I  got 
home,  Mrs.  Brown."  * 

"  Yes,  Judge,  druuk  as  a  fool,  and  forty 
times  as  stupid." 

"  I  thought  so,  said  the  Judge,  dropping 
into  a  chair  with  extreme  despondency — 
"  I  knew  it  would  come  to  that,  at  last.  I 
have  always  thought  that  something  bad 
would  happen  to  me — that  I  should  do 
something  very  wrong — kill  somebody  in 
a  moment  of  passion  perhaps — but  I  never 
imagined  that  I  could  be  mean  enough  to 
be  guilty  of  deliberate  larceny ! " 

'  But,  there  must  be  some  mistake, 
Judge? " 

"  No  mistake,  Polly.  I  know  very  well 
how  it  all  came  about.  That  fellow, 
Sterritt,  keeps  the  meanest  sort  of  liquor, 
and  always  did — liquor  mean  enough  to 
make  a  man  do  any  sort  of  a  mean  thing. 
I  have  always  said  it  was  mean  enough  to 
make  a  man  steal,  and  now  I  have  a  prac- 
tical illustration  of  the  fact!"  and  the 
poor  old  man  burst  into  tears. 

"  Don't  be  a  child,"  said  his  wife  wiping 
away  the  tears,  "  go  like  a  man,  over  to 
Sterritt ;  tell  him  it  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
frolic.  Pass  it  off  as  a  joke — go  and  open 
Court,  and  nobody  will  ever  think  of  it 
again." 

A  little  of  the  soothing  system  operated 
upon  the  Judge,  as  such  things  usually 
do ;  his  extreme  mortification  was  finally 
subdued,  and  over  to  Sterritt's  he  went 
with  a  tolerable  face.  Of  course,  he  had 
but  little  difficulty  in  settling  with  him — 
for  aside  from  the  fact  that  the  Judge's 
integrity  was  unquestionable,  he  had  an 
inkling  of  the  joke  that  had  been  played. 
The  Judge  took  his  seat  in  Court ;  but  it 
was  observed  that  he  was  sad  and  melan- 
choly, and  that  his  mind  frequently 
wandered  from  the  business  before  him. 
There  was  a  lack  of  the  sense  and  in- 
telligence that  usually  characterized  his 
proceedings. 

Several  days  passed  away,  and  the 
business  of  the  Court  was  drawing  towards 
a  close,  when  one  morning  a  rough-look- 
ing sort  of  a  customer  was  arraigned  on  a 
charge  of  stealing.  After  the  Clerk  had 
read  the  indictment  to  him,  he  put  the 
question : 

"  Guilty,  or  not  guilty  ?  " 


"Guilty — but  drunk,"  answered  the 
prisoner. 

"What's  that  plea?"  exclaimed  the 
Judge,  who  was  half  dozing  on  the  bench. 

"  He  pleads  guilty,  but  says  he  was 
drunk,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"  What's  the  charge  against  the  man  Tn 

"  He  is  indicted  for  grand  larceny." 

"What's  the  case?" 

"  May  it  please  your  honor,"  said  the 
prosecuting  attorney,  "the  man  is  reg- 
ularly indicted  for  stealing  a  large  sum 
from  the  Columbus  Hotel." 

"  He  is,  hey  ?  and  he  pleads — " 

"  He  pleads  guilty,  but  drunk  !  " 

The  Judge  was  now  fully  aroused. 

"  Guilty,  but  drunk  !  That  is  a  most 
extraordinary  plea.  Young  man,  you  are 
certain  you  were  drunk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  get  your  liquor?  " 

"  At  Sterritt's." 

"  Did  you  get  none  no  where  else  ?  " 

"  Not  a  drop,  sir." 

"You  got  drunk  on  his  liquor,  and 
afterwards  stole  his  money  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Prosecutor,"  said  the  Judge,  "  do 
me  the  favor  to  enter  a  nolle  prosequi  in 
that  man's  case.  That  liquor  of  Sterritt's  is 
mean  enough  to  make  a  man  do  any  thing 
dirty.  I  got  drunk  on  it  the  other  day  my- 
self, and  stole  all  of  Sterritt's  spoons  !  Re- 
lease the  prisoner,  Mr.  Sheriff;  I  adjourn 
the  Court." 

COL.  BRADBURY. 


RELATED  TO  THE  JUDGE. 

JUDGE  B ,  late  one  of  the  judges  of 

the  Eighth  District  of  the  State  of  Neur 
York,  was  a  most  amiable  man,  whose 
honor  was  unsullied,  and  who  hated  a 
mean  action  as  every  such  character  must. 
At  the  General  Circuit  he  was  hearing  an 
action  in  which  one  of  the  parties  hap- 
pened to  be  a  namesake  of  his.  During 
the  trial,  the  party,  having  an  opportunity, 
and  thinking  probably  to  gain  _some  ad- 
vantage by  it,  approached  the  judge  and 
said : 

"We  are  of  the  same  name,  judge. 
I've  been  making  inquiries,  and  find  we 
are  some  relation  to  each  other.'' 

"  Ah  I "  said  the  judge,  "  is  that  so  ?  Are 
you  sure  of  it  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  he, "  no  doubt  of  it." 


186 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


"Well,"  said  the  judge,  "  I'm  very  glad 
to  hear  that — very  glad  indeed.  I  shall 
get  rid  of  your  case ;  I  shall  dismiss  it, 
because  I  cannot  sit  in  a  suit  where  I  am 
related  to  one  of  the  parties." 

This  was  a  little  more  than  the  party 
had  bargained  for,  and  he  began  at  once 
to  paddle  off.  After  a  few  inquiries  as  to 
the  judge's  ancestry,  and  their  residence, 
etc., 

"  I  think,  judge,"  said  he,  "  I  was  mis- 
taken. We  are  of  quite  different  families, 
and  not  at  all  related." 

"  Ah  ! "  says  the  judge,  "  is  that  so  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  mis- 
take about  it." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  judge,  in  a  very 
emphatic  tone,  "  I'm  glad  to  learn  that — 
very  glad.  I  should  hate  awfully  to  be 
related  to  a  man  mean  enough  to  attempt 
to  influence  a  court  as  you  have  I " 


A  LEGAL  WAO. 

JUDSON  T.  MILLS,  of  South  Carolina, 
r*as  judge  of  a  district  court  in  Northern 
Texas,  fond  of  a  joke,  but  being  very  de- 
cided in  his  discharge  of  duty.  Thomas 
Fannin  Smith  was  a  practicing  lawyer  at 
the  bar,  and  having  shamefully  misstated 
the  law  in  his  address  to  the  jury,  turned 
to  the  court,  and  asked  the  judge  to 
charge  the  jury  accordingly.  The  judge 
was  indignant,  and  replied : 

"  Does  the  counsel  take  the  court  to  be 
a  fool?" 

Smith  was  not  abashed  by  the  reproof, 
but  instantly  responded : 

"  I  trust  your  honor  will  not  insist  on 
an  answer  to  that  question,  as  I  might,  in 
answering  it  truly,  oe  considered  guilty  of 
contempt  of  court." 

"  Fine  the  counsel  ten  dollars,  Mr. 
Clerk,"  said  the  judge. 

Smith  immediately  paid  the  money, 
and  remarked,  "  it  was  ten  dollars  more 
than  the  court  could  show." 

"  Fine  the  counsel  fifty  dollars,"  said 
the  judge. 

The  fine  was  entered  by  the  clerk,  and 
Smith,  not  being  able  to  respond  in  that 
sum,  sat  down.  The  next  morning,  on  the 
opening  of  court,  Smith  rose,  and  with 
much  deference  of  manner  began : 

"  May  it  please  your  honor,  the  clerk 
took  that  little  joke  of  yours  yesterday 


about  the  fifty  dollars  as  serious,  as  I  per- 
ceive from  the  reading  of  the  minutes. 
Will  your  honor  be  pleased  to  inform  him 
of  his  error,  and  have  it  erased  ?  " 

The  coolness  of  the  request  and  the  im- 
plied apology  pleased  the  judge,  aud  he 
remitted  the  fine. 


THE  BARRISTER  AND  THE  WITNESS. 

THERE  is  a  point  beyond  which  human 
forbearance  cannot  go,  and  the  most  even 
of  tempers  will  become  roused  at  times. 

At  an  assize  held  during  the  past  year, 
both  judge  and  counsel  had  a  deal  of 
trouble  to  make  the  timid  witnesses  upon 
a  trial  speak  sufficiently  loud  to  be  heard 
by  the  jury ;  and  it  is  possible  that  the 
temper  of  the  counsel  may  thereby  have 
been  turned  from  the  even  tenor  of  its  way. 

After  this  gentleman  had  gone  through 
the  various  stages  of  bar  pleading,  and 
had  coaxed,  threatened,  and  even  bullied 
witnesses,  there  was  called  into  the  box 
a  young  ostler,  who  appeared  to  be  simpli- 
city personified. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  counsel,  in  a  tone 
that  would  at  any  other  time  have  been 
denounced  as  vulgarly  loud,  "  I  hope  we 
shall  have  no  difficulty  in  making  you 
speak  out." 

"I  hope  not,  zur,"  was  shouted,  or 
rather  bellowed  out  by  the  witness,  in 
tones  which  almost  shook  the  building, 
and  would  certainly  have  alarmed  any 
timid  or  nervous  lady. 

"  How  dare  you  speak  in  that  way,  sir?" 
said  the  counsel 

"  Please,  zur,  I  can't  speak  any  louder," 
said  the  astonished  witness,  attempting  to 
speak  louder  than  before,  evidently  think- 
ing the  fault  to  be  in  his  speaking  too 
softly. 

"Pray,  have  you  been  drinking  this 
morning?  "  shouted  the  counsel,  who  had 
now  thoroughly  lost  the  last  remnant  of 
bis  temper. 

"  Yes,  zur,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  what  have  you  been  drinking  ?  " 

"  Corfee,  zur." 

"  And  what  did  you  have  in  your  coffee, 
sir?"  shouted  the  exasperated  counsel. 

"  A  spune,  zur  f  "  innocently  bawled  the 
witness,  in  his  highest  key,  amidst  the 
roars  of  the  whole  court — excepting  only 
:he  now  thoroughly  wild  counsel,  who  flung 
down  his  brief  and  rushed  out  of  court. 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


187 


METEMPSYCHOSIS. 

THE  gifted  Sargent  S.  Prentiss  once 
gave  a  sumptuous  dinner  to  some  friends 
at  a  hotel  in  Vicksburg.  Early  in  the 
evening  a  stranger  entered  the  room  by 
mistake.  Prentiss  courteously  invited  him 
to  join  the  party.  Before  long  the  strange 

fuest  began  boasting  of  how  much  he  had 
runk  during  the  day — a  cocktail  here,  a 
smasher  there,  a  julep  in  this  place,  a 
aling  in  that,  and  so  on,  apparently  with- 
out end.  At  length  Prentiss  interrupted 
him  : 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  do  you  believe  in  the 
doctrine  of  metempsychosis  ?  "' 

"  I  don't  know/'  was  the  reply,  "  and  I 
don't  see  that  it  has  anything  to  do  with 
what  we  were  talking  about.' 

"  It  has/'  rejoined  Prentiss,  "  much — 
much  every  way.  I  have  firm  faith  in 
that  doctrine.  I  believe  that  in  the  next 
life  every  man  will  be  transformed  into 
the  thing  for  which  he  has  best  qualified 
himself  in  this.  In  that  life,  sir,  you  will 
become  a  corner  groggery." 


A  SAUCY  LAWYER. 

JAMES  T.  BROWN,  of  Greensburg,  Ind., 
a  smart  and  saucy  lawyer,  was  once  em- 
ployed to  defend  a  case  before  the  Circuit 
Court  of  his  state.  The  judge  was  not  very 
learned  in  technicalities,  knew  but  little 
Latin,  and  much  leas  Greek.  The  jury 
were  taken  from  the  country,  ordinary 
farmers.  The  plaintiff's  counsel  had 
opened.  Brown  rose  and  spoke  two  hours 
in  the  highest  possible  style,  soaring  aloft, 
repeating  Latin  and  translating  Greek, 
using  all  the  technical  terms  he  could 
bring  to  the  end  of  his  tongue.  The  jury 
sat  with  their  mouths  open,  the  judge 
looked  on  with  amazement,  and  the  law- 
yers laughed  aloud.  Brown  closed  ;  the 
case  was  submitted  to  the  jury  without 
one  word  of  reply.  Verdict  in  the  box 
against  Brown;  motion  for  a  new  trial. 
In  the  morning  Brown  rose  and  bowed  to 
the  court : 

"  May  it  please  your  honor,  I  humbly 
rise  this  morning  to  move  for  a  new  trial ; 
not  on  my  own  account ;  I  richly  deserve 
the  verdict,  but  on  behalf  of  my  client, 
who  is  an  innocent  party  in  this  matter. 
On  yesterday  I  gave  wings  to  my  imagi- 


nation, and  rose  above  the  stars  in  a 
blaze  of  glory.  I  saw  at  the  time  it  was 
all  Greek  and  turkey-tracks  to  you  and  the 
jury.  This  morning  I  feel  humble,  and  I 
promise  the  court,  if  they  will  grant  me  a 
new  trial,  I  will  bring  myself  down  to  the 
comprehension  of  the  court  and  jury." 

The  Judge.  "  Motion  overruled,  and  a 
fine  of  five  dollars  against  Mr.  Brown  for 
contempt  of  court." 

"For  what?" 

"  For  insinuating  that  this  court  don't 
know  Latin  and  Greek  from  turkey- 
tracks." 

"  I  shall  not  appeal  from  that  decision. 
Your  honor  has  comprehended  me  this 
time." 


RIDICULE  VERSUS  ELOQUENCE. 

THE  celebrated  legal  orator,  Elisha 
Williams,  of  Columbia  County,  was  a  most 
graceful  speaker,  and  his  voice,  particu- 
larly in  its  pathetic  tones,  was  melody 
itself.  All  who  remember  Ogden  Hoff- 
man's voice  (he  was  called  "  the  Flute  " 
by  his  fellow-members  of  the  bar  of  New 
York),  can  appreciate  the  mellifluous 
organ  of  Mr.  Williams.  His  power  over 
a  jury  was  astonishing.  He  swayed  aa 
with  the  wand  of  an  enchanter,  and  it  was 
very  seldom  he  failed  to  secure  a  verdict 
for  his  client ;  but  on  one  occasion  he  did, 
in  such  a  perfectly  ridiculous  manner, 
that  a  crowded  court  and  grave  judges  on 
the  bench  were  convulsed  with  laughter 
at  the  burlesque  of  the  result.  He  was 
completely  discomfited  by  an  ignorant, 
impudent,  unlettered  pettifogger  who 
knew  no  law,  but  somehow  or  other  had 
obtained  the  credit  of  shrewdness,  and  the 
reputation  among  his  farmer  neighbors  of 
being  hard  to  beat. 

The  case  was  an  act  of  murder.  Mr. 
Williams  of  course,  on  the  ground  of  his 
power  over  the  jury,  was  for  the  defence. 
His  peroration  was  exceedingly  touching 
and  beautiful. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  he,  "  If 
you  can  find  this  unhappy  prisoner  at  the 
bar  guilty  of  the  crime  with  which  he  is 
charged,  after  the  adverse  and  irrefragable 
arguments  which  I  have  laid  before  you, 
pronounce  your  fatal  verdict ;  send  him  to 
lie  in  chains  upon  the  dungeon  floor, 
waiting  the  death  which  he  is  to  receive 
at  your  hands  ;  then  go  to  the  bosom  of 


188 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


your  families,  go  lay  your  heads  on  your 
pillows,  and  sleep  if  you  can  !  " 

The  effect  of  the  closing  words  of  the 
great  legal  orator  was  at  first  thrilling ; 
but  by  and  by  the  pettifogger,  who  had 
volunteered  to  follow  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney, arose  and  said : 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  should  de- 
spair, after  the  weeping  speech  which  has 
been  made  to  you  by  Mr.  Williams,  of 
saying  any  thing  to  do  away  with  its 
eloquence.  I  never  heerd  Mr.  Williams 
speak  that  piece  of  his'n  better  than  what 
he  spoke  it  now.  Onct  I  heerd  him  speak 
it  in  a  case  of  steal  in',  down  to  Schaghti- 
coke ;  then  he  spoke  it  ag'in  in  a  case  of 
rape,  up  to  JEsopus ;  and  the  last  time  I 
heerd  it  before  just  now,  was  when  them 
niggurs  was  tried — and  convicted,  too, 
they  was — for  robbin'  Van  Pelt's  hen- 
house, over  beyond  Kingston.  But  I  never 
knowed  him  to  speak  it  so  eloquent  and 
affectin'  as  what  he  spoke  it  jes  now. " 

This  was  a  poser.  The  jury  looked  at 
one  another,  whispered  together,  and  our 
pettifogger  saw  at  once  that  he  had  got 
them.  He  stopped  at  once,  closing  with 
a  single  remark  :  "  If  you  can't  see,  gentle- 
men of  the  jury,  that  this  speech  don't 
answer  all  cases,  then  there's  no  use  of  my 
saying  any  thing  more.'' 

And  there  wasn't;  he  made  his  case, 
and  they  awarded  him  their  verdict. 


CHIEF    BAKON    POLLOCK. 

A  CAPITAL  story  is  told  of  the  ex-Chief 
Baron  Pollock.  Some  one  who  wished 
the  baron  to  resign  waited  on  him,  and 
hinted  at  his  resignation,  and  suggested  it 
for  his  own  sake,  entirely  with  a  view  to 
the  prolongation  of  his  valued  life,  and  so 
forth.  The  old  man  rose,  and  said  with 
his  grim,  dry  gravity,  "  Will  you  dance 
with  me?"  The  guest  stood  aghast  as 
the  Lord  Chief  Baron,  who  prides  himself 
particularly  upon  his  legs,  began  to  caper 
about  with  a  certain  youth-like  vivacity. 
Seeing  his  visitor  standing  surprised,  he 
capered  up  to  him  and  said,  "Well,  if  you 
won't  dance  with  me,  will  you  box  with 
me?"  And  with  that  he  squared  up  to 
him ;  and  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest,  fairly 
boxed  him  out  of  the  room.  The  old  Chief 
Baron  had  no  more  visitors  anxiously  in- 
quiring after  his  health,  and  courteously 


suggesting  retirement.  The  Lord  Chief 
Baron  was  prone  to  the  expression  of 
strong  general  views,  which  he  conveyed 
in  a  manner  eminently  characteristic, 
with  an  idiomatic  vigor  and  originality  al- 
most amusing.  "If,'*  said  he  on  one 
occasion,  "  every  man  were  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  every  occasion  to  h&ve  '  the 
law '  of  his  neighbor,  life  would  not  be 
long  enough  for  the  litigation  which  would 
result.  All  flesh  and  blood  would  be 
turned  into  plaintiffs  and  defendants." 


ELDON'S  FIRST  JUDGMENT. 

"THE  first  cause  I  ever  decided,"  said 
Eldon,  ''was  an  apple-pie  cause;  I  must 
tell  you  of  it,  Mary.  I  was,  you  know,  a 
senior  fellow  at  the  University  College, 
and  two  of  the  undergraduates  came  to 
complain  to  me  that  the  cook  had  sent 
them  an  apple-pie  that  could  not  be  eaten. 
So  I  said  I  would  hear  both  sides.  I  sum- 
moned the  cook  to  make  his  defence  ;  who 
said  that  he  always  paid  the  utmost 
attention  to  the  provisions  of  the  college, 
that  he  never  had  anything  unfit  for  the 
table,  and  that  there  was  then  a  remark- 
ably fine  fillet  of  veal  in  the  kitchen. 
Now,  here  we  were  at  fault ;  for  I  could 
not  understand  what  a  fillet  of  veal  in  the 
kitchen  had  to  do  with  an  apple-pie  in 
the  hall.  So,  in  order  that  I  might  come 
to  a  right  understanding  of  the  merits  of 
the  case,  I  ordered  the  pie  itself  to  be 
brought  before  me.  Then  came  an  easy 
decision ;  for  the  messenger  returned,  and 
informed  me  that  the  other  undergraduates 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  absence  of  the 
two  complainants,  and  amongst  them  had 
eaten  the  whole  of  the  apple-pie  ;  so  you 
know  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  decide 
that  that  was  not  eatable  which  was  actu- 
ally eaten.  I  have  often  wished  in  after- 
life that  all  the  causes  were  apple-pie 
causes;  fine  easy  work  it  would  have 
been." 


A  FERTILE  MIND.  —  The  following 
story  is  related  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  con- 
cerning the  first  Continental  Congress: 
"  Delegate  Harrison,  of  Virginia,  desiring 
a  stimulant,  presented  himself  and  friend 
at  a  certain  place  where  supplies  were 
furnished  Congress,  and  ordered  two 


LEGAL  ANECDOTES. 


189 


glasses  of  brandy  and  water.  The  man  in 
charge  replied  that  liquors  were  not  in- 
cluded in  the  supplies  furnished  Congress- 
men. '  Why,'  said  Harrison,  '  what  is  it, 
then,  that  I  see  the  New  England  members 
come  here  and  drink?'  'Molasses  and 
water,  which  they  have  charged  as  station- 
ery','  was  the  reply.  'Then  give  me  the 
brandy  and  water,'  quoth  Harrison,  '  and 
jharge  it  as  fuel.1 " 

INTERESTING  CORRESPONDENCE. — Gov- 
ernor Giles,  of  Virginia,  once  addressed  a 
note  to  Patrick  Henry,  demanding  satis- 
faction : 

"  Sir,  I  understand  that  you  have  called 
me  a  '  bob-tail '  politician.  I  wish  to  know 
if  it  be  true ;  and  if  true,  your  meaning. 
"  WM.  B.  GILES." 

To  which  Mr.  Henry  replied : 

"Sir,  I  do  not  recollect  having  called 
you  a '  bob-tail '  politician  at  any  time,  but 
think  it  probable  I  have.  Not  recollect- 
ing the  time  or  occasion,  I  can't  say  what 
I  did  mean,  but  if  you  will  tell  me  what 
you  think  I  meant,  I  will  say  whether  you 
are  correct  or  not. 

"  Very  respectfully,  PATRICK  HENRY." 

IRREPRESSIBLE. — The  Washington  Star 
tells  the  following  story  of  Hon.  S.  S.  Cox, 
the  "  irrepressible  ''  Congressman  from 
New  York  city :  On  Monday  last,  Cox 
was  more  than  usually  active,  spurty,  and 
irrepressible  in  the  House.  He  was  con- 
tinually at  the  front,  "  catching  on  the 
fly,"  and  rampaging  round  generally. 
Finally,  when  the  House  came  to  an 
agreement  to  proceed  with  the  debate  on 
the  salary  bill  in  twenty-minute  speeches, 
Cox  despatched  a  page  with  the  following 
note. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Speaker :  Put  me  down  for 
twenty  minutes.  8.  8.  C." 

To  which  the  speaker  replied : 

"  Dear  Cox :  I  would  be  delighted  if  I 
could  keep  you  down  half  that  time. 

J.  G.  B." 

A  PECULIAR  VENERATION.  —  Rufus 
Choate  and  Chief  Justice  Shaw,  of 
Massachusetts,  often  indulged  in  wordy 
combat,  and  wit  was  generally  freely  ex- 
pended on  both  sides.  Choate  was  once 
arguing  a  question  before  the  chief  justice 
(who  was  one  of  the  homeliest  men  ever 
raised  to  the  bench),  and  to  express  his 
reverence  for  the  conceded  ability  of  the 


judge,  said,  in  yielding  to  an  adverse  de- 
cision: "In  coming  into  the  presence  of 
your  honor,  I  experience  the  same  feelings 
the  Hindoo  does  when  he  bows  before  his 
idol.  I  know  that  you  are  ugly,  but  I  feel 
that  you  are  great." 

"  I'LL  tell  a  lee  wi'  ony  man  in  Scot- 
land," said  a  witness  in  an  inferior  court, 
and  then  with  characteristic  caution  he 
added,  "  but  I'll  no  swear  to  V 

SERJEANT  COCKLE,  a  rough,  blustering 
fellow,  and  well  known  on  the  northern 
circuit,  once  got  from  a  witness  more  than 
he  gave.  In  a  trial  of  a  right  of  fishery 
he  asked  the  witness,  "  Don't  you  love 
fish?"  "Ah,"  replied  the  witness  with  a 
grin ;  "  but  I  dunna  like  Cockle  sauce 
with  it." 

A  BARRISTER  tormented  a  poor  Ger- 
man witness  so  much  with  questions,  thjit 
the  old  man  declared  that  he  must  have 
a  drink  of  water  before  he  could  say  an- 
other word.  Upon  this  the  judge  re- 
marked, "  I  think,  sir,  you  must  have  done 
with  the  witness  now,  for  you  have 
pumped  him  dry." 

"  WHAT  would  be  your  notion  of  ab- 
sent-mindedness ?  *'  asked  Rufus  Choate 
of  a  witness  whom  he  was  cross-examining. 
"Well,"  said  the  witness,  with  a  strong 
Yankee  accent,  "  I  should  say  that  a 
man  who  thought  he'd  left  his  watch  to 
hum,  and  took  it  out'n  'is  pocket  to  see  if 
he'd  time  to  go  hum  ana  get  it,  was  a 
leetle  absent-minded." 

CURRAN  was  a  rare  wit,  but  even  he 
sometimes  met  his  match.  He  was  once 
examining  a  cross-grained,  ugly-faced 
witness,  from  whom  he  sought  to  obtain 
a  direct  answer.  At  length  he  exclaimed, 
"  It's  no  use  trying  to  get  truth  out  of  you, 
for  I  see  the  villain  in  your  face ! "  "  Do 
you,  sir  ? ''  retorted  the  man  with  a  smile ; 
"  why,  then  it  must  be  so ;  faix,  I  never 
knew  my  face  was  a  looking-glass  before  1" 

GEN<,  BUTLER  and  Judge  Hoar  once 
met  as  opposing  counsel  in  an  action  for 
damages  for  loss  of  life  brought  before  the 
Massachusetts  Supreme  Court  on  excep- 
tions. Butler  cited  from  Job,  "  Yea,  all 
that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life," 
when  Judge  Hoar  remarked  that  that  was 


190 


THE  LOVER  AND  THE  LAP-DOG. 


s  plea  of  the  devil  in  a  motion  for  a  new 
trial ,  and  he  didn't  think  that  the  court 
would  be  more  impressed  by  it  because  of 
its  modern  endorsement. 

UPON  the  trial  of  a  suit  for  divorce,  one 
of  the  witnesses  was  asked  whether  he  had 
spoken  to  any  of  the  jury  since  the  trial 
commenced.  "Yes,  sir,  I  have  spoken 

to  Mr. "  (pointing  to  a  juryman  with  a 

very  red  face).  "What  did  you  say  to 
him  ?  Witness  appeared  reluctant  to  tell. 
The  attorney  insisted  upon  an  answer. 
"  Well,"  said  the  witness,  "  I  told  him 
that  he  had  a  very  pretty  face  to  sit  on  a 
jury,  to  decide  whether  a  man  was  an 
habitual  drunkard  or  not." 

AN  old  barrister  was  giving  advice  to 
his  son,  who  was  entering  his  father's  pro- 
fession. "My  son,"  said  the  counsellor, 
"  if  you  have  a  case  where  the  law  is 
clearly  on  your  side,  but  justice  seems  to 
be  against  you,  urge  upon  the  jury  the 
importance  of  sustaining  the  law.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  you  are  in  doubt  about 
the  law,  but  your  client's  case  is  founded 
on  justice,  insist  on  the  necessity  of  doing 
justice,  though  the  heavens  fall.  "  But," 
asked  the  son,  "  how  shall  I  manage  a 
case  where  law  and  justice  are  dead 
against  me  ?  "  "  In  that  case/'  replied 
the  old  man,  "  talk  round  it." 

Two  lawyers  in  a  country  court,  one  of 
whom  had  gray  hair,  and  the  other, 
though  just  as  old  a  man  as  his  learned 
friend,  had  hair  which  looked  suspiciously 
black,  had  some  altercation  about  a 
question  of  practice,  in  which  the  gentle- 
man with  the  dark  hair  remarked  to  his  op- 
ponent, "  A  person  at  your  time  of  life  " — 
looking  at  the  barrister's  gray  head — 
"  ought  to  have  long  enough  experience  to 
know  what  is  customary  in  such  cases." 
"  You  may  stare  at  my  gray  hair,  if  you 
like,"  retorted  the  other.  "My  hair  will 
be  gray  as  long  as  I  live,  and  yours  will 
be  black  as  long  as  you  dye  I " 

KEEN  and  cutting  words,  or  even  trifling 
incivilities,  indulged  in  at  the  expense  of 
counsel,  have  sometimes  met  with  swift 
retribution.  Plunket  was  once  engaged 
in  a  case,  when,  towards  the  end  of  the 
afternoon,  it  became  a  question  whether 
the  Court  should  proceed  or  adjourn  till 
the  next  day  Plunket  expressed  his 


willingness  to  go  on  if  the  jury  would 
"set."  "Sit,  sir,  sit,"  said  the  presiding 
judge,  "  not '  set ' ;  hens  set."  *  I  thank 
you,  my  lord,"  said  Plunket.  The  case 
proceeded,  and  presently  the  judge  had 
occasion  to  observe  that  if  that  were  the 
case,  he  feared  the  action  would  not "  lay.'' 
"  Lie,  my  lord,  lie,"  exclaimed  the  bar- 
rister, "  not '  lay' ;  hens  lay." 

THE  rigid  observance  of  old  English 
rules  in  the  Sonth  Carolina  courts,  and 
a  neglect  of  the  same  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Petigrue,  gave  rise  to  the  following  pass- 
age : 

"Mr.  Petigrue,'' said  the  Judge,  "you 
have  on  a  light  coat.  You  can't  speak." 

"Petigrue  replied :  "  May  it  please  the 
bench,  I  conform  strictly  to  the  law.  Let 
me  illustrate  :  The  law  says  that  the  bar- 
rister shall  wear  a  black  gown  and  coat, 
and  your  honor  thinks  that  means  a  black 
coat?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  Well,  the  law  also  says  the  sheriff  shall 
wear  a  cocked  hat  and  sword.  Does  your 
honor  hold  that  the  sword  must  be  cocked 
as  well  as  the  hat  ?  " 

He  was  permitted  to  go  on. 


THE  LOVER  AND  THE  LAP-DOG. 

— medio  de  fonte  leporura 
Surgit  amari  ahquid. — LUCRIT. 

JULIA  was  blest  with  beauty,  wit,  and  grace : 
Small  poets  loved  to  sing  her  blooming  face. 
Before  her  altars,  lo  I  a  numerous  train 
Preferr'd  their  vows;  yet  all  preferr'd  in 

vain : 

Till  charming  Florio,  born  to  conquer  came, 
And  touch'd  the  fair  one    with  an  equal 

Same. 

The  flame  she  felt,  and  ill  she  could  conceal 
What  every  look  and  action  would  reveal. 

With  boldness  then,  which  seldom  fails  to 

move, 

He  pleads  the  cause  of  marriage  and  of  love; 
The  course  of  hymeneal  joys  he  rounds, 
The  fair  one's  eyes  dance  pleasure  at  th« 

sounds. 
Naught    now  reraain'd    by  "Noes"— how 

little  meant — 

And  the  sweet  coyness  that  endears  consent. 
The  youth  upon  his  knees  enraptured  fell  :— • 


CURIOUS  MARRIAGE  CEREMONY. 


191 


The  strange  misfortune,  oh !  what  words  can 

tell? 
Tell  I  ye  neglected   sylphs  !    who  lap-dogs 

guard, 
Why  snatch'd  ye  not  away  your  precious 

ward  ? 

Why  suffered  ye  the  lover's  weight  to  fall 
On  the  ill-fated  neck  of  much-loved  Ball  ? 
The  favorite  on  his  mistress  casts  his  eyes, 
Gives  a  melancholy  howl,  and — dies  ! 

Sacred  his  ashes  lie,  and  long  his  rest ! 
Anger  and  grief  divide  poor  Julia's  breast. 
Her  eyes  she  fix'd  on  guilty  Florio  first, 
On  him  the  storm  of  angry  grief  must  burst. 
That  storm  he  fled  : — he  woos  a  kinder  fair, 
Whose  fond  affections  no  dear  puppies  share. 
'Twerevain  to  tell  how  Julia  pined  away: — 
Unhappy  fair,  that  in  one  luckless  day 
(From  future  almanacks  the  day  be  cross'd !) 
At  once  her  lover  and  her  lap-dog  lost  1 

SAMUEL  TATLO»  COLEKIDOE,  1772-1843. 


CURIOUS  MARRIAGE  CEREMONY. 

SOON  after  the  close  of  the  war,  Cap- 
tain X.  was  appointed  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace  in  a  country  place,  not  far  from 
Raleigh,  North  Carolina.  Beyond  the 
management  of  real  estate,  drawing  up 
deeds,  etc.,  he  had  no  legal  knowledge, 
indeed,  his  entire  stock  of  "  book-learn- 
ing" was  small  and  poorly  selected,  but 
any  lack  in  general  information  was  fully 
made  up,  for  his  uses,  by  self-assertion. 
Late  one  afternoon,  while  riding  home, 
he  met  a  young  woman  and  two  men. 
The  young  woman  and  one  of  the  men 
wished  to  be  married  at  once.  They  pro- 
cured the  necessary  license,  but  an  irate 
father  was  on  their  path,  and  vowed  that 
they  should  never  be  married.  Now,  the 
captain  had  never  witnessed  a  marriage. 
He  remembered  having  seen  a  book  about 
the  house  years  before  with  a  form  for 
marriage  in  it ;  but  where  it  was  he  could 
not  remember.  "Why,"  said  he,  when 
he  told  the  story  afterward,  "  I  knew  the 
Tostles'  Creed  and  Commandments,  and 
at  first  I  thought  I'd  use  'em  to  begin 
on,  but  then  I  reckoned,  on  the  whole, 
they  was  too  solemn." 

A  less  assured f  man  would  have  been 
sorely  perplexed,  but  not  he.  He  lost  no 
time  in  removing  his  hat,  and  remarked, 
"  Hats  off  in  the  presence  of  the  court." 


All  being  uncovered,  he  said,  "  I'll  swear 
you  in  fust.  Hold  up  yer  right  hands." 

"Me  too?"  asked  the  friend  of  the 
groom. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  captain,  "  all  wit- 
nesses must  be  sworn.  You  and  each  of 
you  solemnly  swear  that  the  evidence  you 
shall  give  in  this  case  shall  be  the  truth, 
th'  'ole  truth,  an'  nothin'  but  the  truth, 
s'elp  you  God.  You,  John  Marvin,  do 
solemnly  swear  that  to  the  best  of  your 
knowledge  an'  belief  you  take  this  yer 
woman  ter  have  an'  ter  hold  for  yerself, 
yer  heirs,  exekyerters,  administrators,  and 
assigns,  for  your  an'  their  use  an'  behoof 
forever  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  answered  the  groom. 

"  You,  Alice  Ewer,  take  this  yer  man 
for  yer  husband,  ter  hev  an'  ter  hold  for- 
ever ;  and  you  do  further  swear  that  you 
are  lawfully  seized  in  fee-simple,  are  free 
from  all  incumbrance,  and  hev  good  right 
to  sell,  bargain  and  convey  to  the  said 
grantee  yerself,  yer  heirs,  administrators, 
and  assigns  ?  " 

"I  do,"  said  the  bride,  rather  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Well,  John,"  said  the  captain,  "  that'll 
be  about  a  dollar  'n'  fifty  cents." 

"  Are  we  married  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Not  yet,  ye  ain't,"  quoth  the  captain, 
with  emphasis ;  but  the  fee  comes  in  here" 
After  some  fumbling  it  was  produced  and 
handed  over  to  the  "Court,"  who  ex- 
amined it  to  make  sure  that  it  was  all 
right,  and  then  pocketed  it,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  Know  all  men  by  these  presents, 
that  I,  Captain  X.,  of  Raleigh,  North 
Carolina,  being  in  good  health  and  of 
sound  and  disposin'  mind,  in  consid- 
eration of  a  dollar  'n'  fifty  cents  to  me 
in  hand  paid,  the  receipt  whereof  is  here- 
by acknowledged,  do  and  by  these  pre- 
sents have  declared  you  man  and  wife 
during  good  behavior,  and  till  otherwise 
ordered  by  the  court." 

The  men  put  on  their  hats  again,  the 
young  couple,  after  shaking  their  bene- 
factor's hand, went  on  to  meet  their  destiny 
and  the  irate  father,  while  the  captain, 
rode  home  richer  in  experience. — Har- 
per's Magazine. 


CARPETS  are  bought  by  the  yard  and 
worn  by  the  foot. 


192 


FLUSTERED. 


BOBBY'S  TROUSERS. 

A  HIGHLAND  family  of  some  dignity, 
but  not  much  means,  was  to  receive  a 
visit  from  some  English  relations  for  the 
first  time.  Great  was  the  anxiety  and 
great  the  efforts  to  make  things  wear  a 
respectable  appearance  before  these  as- 
sumedly-fastidious  strangers.  The  lady 
had  contrived  to  get  up  a  pretty  good 
dinner;  but,  either  from  an  indulgent 
disposition,  or  from  some  defect  in  her  set 
of  servants,  she  allowed  her  son  Bobby,  a 
little  boy,  to  be  present,  instead  of  re- 
manding him  to  the  nursery.  But  little 
was  she  aware  of  Bobby's  power  of  tor- 
ture. 

Bobby,  who  was  dressed  in  a  new  jacket 
and  a  pair  of  buff-colored  trousers,  had 
previously  received  strict  injunctions  to 
sit  at  table  quietly,  and  on  no  account  to 
join  in  conversation.  For  a  little  while 
he  carried  out  these  instructions  by  sit- 
ting perfectly  quiet  till  the  last  guest  had 
been  helped  to  soup,  whereupon,  during  a 
slight  lull  in  the  general  conversation, 
Bobby  quietly  said : 

"  I  want  some  soup,  mamma.*' 

"You  can't  be  allowed  to  have  any 
soup,  Bobby.  You  must  not  be  always 
asking  for  things." 

"  If  you  don't  give  me  some  soup  im- 
mediately, I'll  tell  yon!" 

The  lady  seemed  a  little  troubled,  and, 
instead  of  sending  Bobby  out  of  the  room, 
quietly  yielded  to  his  demand.  Soup  be- 
ing removed  and  fish  introduced,  there 
was  a  fresh  demand. 

"Mamma,  I  want  some  sea-fish"  (a 
rarity  in  the  Highlands). 

"  Bobby,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  are 
very  forward.  You  can't  get  any  fish. 
You  must  sit  quietly,  and  not  trouble  us 
so  much." 

"  Well,  mamma,  if  I  don't  get  some  fish, 
mind  I'll  tell  yon  I " 

"  Oh,  Bobby,  you're  a  plague ! "  and 
then  she  gave  him  the  fish. 

A  little  further  on  in  the  dinner,  Bobby, 
observing  his  papa  and  the  guests  taking 
wine,  was  pleased  to  break  in  once 
more: 

"Papa,  I  would  like  a  glass  of  wine!" 

By  this  time,  as  might  well  be  sup- 
posed, the  attention  of  the  company  had 
been  pretty  fully  drawn  to  Bobby,  about 


whom,  in  all  probability,  there  prevailed 
but  one  opinion.  The  father  was  irritated 
at  the  incident. 

"Bobby,  you  must  be  quiet;  you  can 
have  no  wine." 

"Well,  papa,  if  I  don't  get  some  wine, 
mind  I'll  tell  yon  I" 

"  You  rascal,  you  shall  have  no  wine ! " 

"  You  had  better  do  it,"  answered  Bob- 
by, firmly.  "  Once,  twice — will  you  give 
me  the  wine  ?  Come,  now,  mind  I'll  tell 
yon  /  Once,  twice — " 

The  father  looked  canes  and  lashes  at 
his  progeny.  Bobby,  however,  was  not 
to  be  daunted. 

"Here  goes  now!  Once,  twice — will 
you  do  it?  Once,  twice,  thrice!  My 
trousers  were  made  out  of  mother's  old  win- 
dow-curtains I " 

Stiff  English  party  dissolves  in  uncon- 
strainable  merriment. — Dr.  Robert  Char.t- 
bers's  "  Scrap-JBook." 


FLUSTERED. 

A  TALL,  green-looking  youth  stepped 
into  a  village  grocery  where  they  keep 
something  to  drink  as  well  as  to  eat,  and 
after  peering  about  a  little  spied  some 
ginger  cakes.  Said  he  to  the  grocer : 

"  Them's  mighty  fine  cakes.  What's  the 
least  you'll  take  for  one  of  'em  ?  " 

"  Ten  cents,"  replied  the  grocer. 

"Well,  I  believe  I'll  take  one,  if  you'll 
wrap  it  up  right  good." 

The  grocer  wrapped  up  the  cake  and 
handed  it  to  him.  He  looked  thought- 
fully at  it  awhile  and  said : 

"  I  don't  believe  I  want  this  cake,  after 
all.  Won't  you  swap  me  a  drink  for  it?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  grocer,  as  he  took  back 
the  cake  and  handed  him  a  glass  of  some- 
thing. 

The  young  man  swallowed  the  liquor 
and  started  off. 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  the  grocer,  "  you 
haven't  paid  me  for  my  drink." 

"  I  swapped  you  the  cake  for  the 
drink.'' 

"  But  you  haven't  paid  me  for  the  cake." 

"  You've  got  your  cake." 

This  last  retort  so  nonplussed  the  gro- 
cer that  he  stood  and  scratched  his  puz- 
zled head,  while  the  young  man  made 
good  his  retreat. 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BAROF  MUNCHAUSEN. 


193 


THE  TRAVELS  AND  SURPRISING 

ADVENTURES  OF  BARON 

MUNCHAUSEN. 

INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE. 

So  many  different  opinions  have  obtained 
respecting  the  authorship  of  "  The  Travels 
of  Baron  Munchausen,"  and  the  motives 
for  writing  that  work,  that  it  seems  desir- 
able to  furnish  some  explanation  on  both 
these  points. 

The  general  opinion  appears  to  be  that 
expressed  by  a  writer  in  Notes  and  Queries 
(No.  68,  1851)  :  "The  Travels  of  Baron 
Munchausen  were  written  to  ridicule  Bruce, 
the  Abyssinian  traveler,  whose  adventures 
were  at  that  time  deemed  fictitious."  But 
the  writer  of  the  above  article  offers  the 
best  evidence  for  correcting  this  opinion  ; 
for  he  goes  on  to  say,  that  he  had  for  years 
sought  a  copy  of  the  work,  and  had  at 
last  been  successful,  and  describes  it  as 
"  the  second  edition,  considerably  enlarged, 
and  ornamented  with  twenty  explanatory 
engravings  from  original  designs,"  and  as 
being  entitled  " '  Gulliver  Revived,  or  the  Vice 
of  Lying  properly  exposed,  printed  for  the 
Kearsleys,  at  London,  1793.' "  He  also 
describes  a  second  volume,  "A  Sequel  to 
the  Adventures  of  Baron  Munchausen^  a 
new  edition,  with  twenty  capital  copper- 
plates, including  the  Baron's  portrait,  hum- 
bly dedicated  to  Mr.  Bruce,  the  Abyssinian 
traveler,"  published  by  Symonds,  Paternos- 
ter Row,  1796. 

Copies  of  both  of  these  volumes  are  in 
the  British  Museum,  and  completely  clear 
up  the  question.  "  Gulliver  Revived  "  is 
identical  in  every  respect  with  the  above 
described,  except  that  it  is  called  the 
seventh  edition  instead  of  the  second.  The 
fall  title  runs : 

"  The  Seventh  Edition,  considerably  en- 
larged, and  ornamented  with  twenty  ex- 
planatory engravings  from  original  designs  : 
GULLIVER  REVIVED  ;  or,  the  Vice  of  Lying 
properly  exposed :  containing  Singular 
Travels,  Campaigns,  Voyages  and  Adven- 
tures in  Russia,  the  Caspian  Sea,  Iceland, 
Turkey,  Egypt,  Gibraltar,  up  the  Mediter- 
ranean, on  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  and  through 
the  centre  of  Mount  ^Etna,  into  the  South 
Sea. 

"  Also  an  account  of  a  Voyage  into  the 
Moon  and  Dog-star,  with  many  extraor- 
VOL.  II. — \V.  H. 


dinary  particulars  relating  to  the  cooking 
animals  in  those  planets,  which  are  there 
called  the  Human  Species.  By  BARON 
MUNCHAUSEN.  London :  Printed  for  C. 
&  G.  Kearsley,  Fleet  Street,  1793." 

The  preface  to  this  seventh  edition  says  : 
"  The  first  edition  was  comparatively  slow 
in  sale,  but  the  whole  of  the  subsequent 
impressions  were  purchased  within  a  short 
time  after  they  were  printed.  This  seventh 
edition  contains  such  considerable  additions 
that  it  may  be  fairly  considered  as  a  new 
work." 

We  thus  see  that  the  six  editions  (the 
second  to  the  seventh),  were  issued  in  1793, 
but  as  the  plates  to  the  seventh  edition  (and 
doubtless  to  the  second  and  other  editions) 
bear  the  imprint,  "  Published  as  the  Act 
directs,  for  G.  Kearsley,  at  46,  in  Fleet 
Street,  London,  1786,"  it  becomes  evident 
that  the  first  edition  was  issued  in  that  year ; 
and  that  being  four  years  before  the  publi- 
cation of"  Bruce's  Travels,"  which  appeared 
in  1790,  the  work  could  not  have  been 
written  to  ridicule  them.  In  fact,  recent 
investigation  has  rendered  it  almost  a  cer- 
tainty that  the  original  author  of  "  Mun- 
chausen's  Travels "  was  a  learned  but  un- 
principled scholar,  of  the  name  of  R.  E. 
Raspe,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  England 
from  the  pursuit  of  justice  (vide  Gen- 
tleman's Magazine,  January,  1857),  and 
that  many  of  his  stories  are  of  ancient 
date,  and  current  .  in  various  countries. 
Many  are  to  be  found  under  the  title  of 
"Mendacia  Ridicula,"  in  vol.  iii.  of  Deli- 
cise  Academicse,"  Heilbron,  1665 ;  that  of 
"  sound  being  frozen  in  a  post-horn  "  is  from 
Rabelais,  appears  to  have  been  known  also 
in  Spain  and  Italy,  and  is  said  by  a  writer 
in  Notes  and  Queries  (No.  61,  1850)  to  be 
traceable  to  one  of  the  later  Greek  writers, 
from  whom  Jeremy  Taylor,  in  one  of  his 
sermons,  borrows  it  as  an  illustration ; 
while  the  story  of  "  the  horse  cut  in  two  by 
the  portcullis  "  is  translated  by  Lady  C. 
Guest,  in  "  The  Mabinogion,"  from  an  an- 
cient Welsh  manuscript. 

This  being  the  case,  it  may  reasonably 
be  asked  how  the  very  general  opinion 
could  have  originated — an  opinion  enter- 
tained by  Bruce  himself — that  Munchausen 
was  written  to  ridicule  his  travels?  And 
this  question  appears  to  derive  its  conclu- 
sive reply  from  the  "  Sequel  "  above  alluded 
to,  of  which  the  first  edition  is  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum,  and  whose  title  runs  thus : 

"  (With  20  capital  Copper-plates,  incl;.  1 

13 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  ON  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


ing  the  Baron's  Portrait.)  A  SEQUEL  TO 
THE  ADVKNTURES  OK  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN, 
Humbly  dedicated  to  Mr.  Bruce,  the  Abys- 
sinian Traveler,  as  the  Baron  conceives 
that  it  may  be  of  some  service  to  him,  pre- 
vious to  his  making  another  expedition  into 
Abyssinia.  But  if  this  advice  does  not 
delight  Mr.  Bruce,  the  Baron  is  willing  to 
fight  him  on  any  terms  he  pleases.  Lon- 
don :  Printed  for  H.  D.  Symonds,  Pater- 
noster Row,  1792." 

It  thus  appears  that,  though  the  original 
work  was  "  comparatively  slow  in  sale,"  a 
new  impetus  was  given  to  it  by  the  issue  of 
this  <l  Sequel "  shortly  after  the  publication 
of  "  Bruce's  Travels,"  and  by  the  direct  at- 
tack its  title-page  and  general  contents — 
one  of  the  plates  being  "  an  African  feast 
upon  live  bulls  and  kava" — made  on  that 
work  ; J  that  consequently  in  the  following 
year,  1793,  six  editions  were  required,  though 
the  editor  makes  no  scruple  of  saying  that 
only  a  small  part,  viz.,  chapters  2,  3,  4,  5, 
6,  were  by  the  "  Baron,"  and  the  rest  "  the 
production  of  another  pen,  written  in  the 
Baron's  manner."  It  being  the  fashion  of 
the  day  to  decry  and  caricature  Bruce 
(though  subsequent  inquiries  have  shown 
he  was  a  very  truthful  man),  his  revilers 
compiled  "  The  Sequel  to  Munchausen " 
for  this  purpose,  and  made  use  of  this  al- 
most forgotten  "  Gulliver  Revived,"  as  one 
of  their  weapons  of  attack. 


1  The  Abyssinian  custom'of  feeding  upon  live  flesh 
seems  to  have  provoked  a  chorus  of  incredulity  from  all 
quarters.  Among  others,  Peter  Pindar  makes  it  the  sub- 
ject of  one  of  his  satirical  flings : 

"  Nor  have  I  been  where  men  (what  loss,  alas) " 
Kill  half  a  cow,  then  send  the  rest  to  grass." 

Bruce  was  also  ridiculed  in  an  after-piece  acted  in  the 
Hayniarket,  in  which  Bannister  performed  the  part  of 
Macfable,  a  Scotch  travelling  impostor,  and  the  hits 
Against  his  travels  could  not  be  mistaken. 

In  Sir  F.  Head's  "  Life  of  Bruce ''  (page  476)  there  is 
the  following  anecdote  :  "  One  day,  while  he  was  at  the 
house  of  a  relation,  in  East  Lothian,  a  gentleman  pre- 
sent bluntly  observed  that  it  was  not  possible  that  the 
natives  of  Abyssinia  could  eat  raw  meat !  Bruce  said  not 
»word:  but,  leaving  the  room,  shortly  returned  from 
the  kitchen  with  a  piece  of  raw  beef-steak,  peppered  and 
salted  in  the  Abyssinian  fashion. 

'  You  will  eat  that,  sir,  or  fight  me  ! '  he  said.  When 
the  gentleman  had  eaten  up  the  raw  flesh  (moat  willingly 
would  he  have  eaten  his  words  instead  ,  Bruce  calmly 
observed.  Now,  sir,  yon  will  never  again  fay  it  is  im- 


TO  THE  PUBLIC. 

Having  heard,  for  the  first  time,  that  my 
adventures  have  been  doubted,  and  looked 
upon  as  jokes,  I  feel  bound  to  come  for- 
ward and  vindicate  my  character  for  vera- 
city, by  paying  three  shillings  at  the  Man- 
sion House  of  this  great  city  for  the  affida- 
vits hereto  appended. 

This  I  have  been  forced  into  in  regard  of 
my  own  honor,  although  I  have  retired  for 
many  years  from  public  and  private  life  ; 
and  I  hope  that  this,  my  last  edition,  will 
place  me  in  a  proper  light  with  my  readers. 

AT   THE    CITY    OF    LONDON,  ENGLAND. 

We,  the  undersigned,  as  true  believers  in 
the  profit,  do  most  solemnly  affirm,  that  all 
the  adventures  of  our  friend,  Baron  Mun- 
chausen, in  whatever  country  they  may  lie, 
are  positive  and  simple  facts.  And,  as  we 
have  been  believed,  whose  adventures  are 
tenfold  more  wonderful,  so  do  we  hope  all 
true  believers  will  give  him  their  full  faith 
and  credence. 

GULLIVER,   x 

SINBAD.          X 
ALADDIN.      X 

Sworn  at  the  Mansion  House 
9th  Nov.  last,  in  the  absence 
of  the  Lord  Mayor. 

JOHN  (the  Porter). 

PREFACE. 

BARON  MUNCHAUSEN  has  certainly  been 

productive  of  much  benefit  to  the  literary 

world  ;  the  numbers  of  egregious  travellers 

have  been  such,  that  they  demand   a  very 

Gulliver   to   surpass   them.     If  Baron    de 

Tott   dauntlessly  discharged    an  enormous 

piece   of  artillery,  the    Baron  Munchausen 

has  done  more  ;  he  has  taken  it  and   swam 

with  it  across  the  sea.     When  travellers  are 

solicitous   to   be   the   heroes   of  their  own 

story,  surely  they  must  admit  to  superiority 

and  blush  at  seeing  themselves  outdone  by 

!  the  renowned  Munchausen  :  I  doubt  whether 

I  any   one   hitherto,  Pantagruel,  Gargantua, 

|  Captain  Lemuel,  or  De  Tott,  has  been  able 

!  to  outdo  our  Baron  in  this  species  of  excel- 

j  lence  :  and  as  at  present  our  curiosity  seems 

j  much  directed  to  the  interior  of  Africa,  it 

must  be  edifying   to  have  the  real  relation 

of  Munchausen's    adventures   there    before 

any   further    intelligence    arrives ;    for    he 

seems  to  adapt  himself  and  his  exploits  to 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


195 


the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  recounts  what 
he  thinks  should  be  most  interesting  to  his 
auditors. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  Baron  in  the  follow- 
ing stories,  means  a  satire  on  any  political 
matters  whatever.  No ;  but  if  the  reader 
understands  them  so,  I  cannot  help  it. 

If  the  Baron  meets  with  a  parcel  of  negro 
ships  carrying  whites  into  slavery  to  work 
upon  their  plantations  in  a  cold  climate, 
should  we  therefore  imagine  that  he  intends 
a  reflection  on  the  present  traffic  in  human 
flesh  ?  And  that,  if  the  negro  should  do 
so,  it  would  be  simple  justice,  as  retaliation 
is  the  law  of  God !  If  we  were  to  think 
this  a  reflection  on  any  present  commercial 
or  political  matter,  we  should  be  tempted 
to  imagine,  perhaps,  some  political  ideas 
conveyed  in  every  page,  in  every  sentence 
of  the  whole.  Whether  such  things  are  or 
are  not  the  intentions  of  the  Baron  the 
reader  must  judge. 

We  have  had  not  only  wonderful  travellers 
in  this  vile  world,  but  splenetic  travellers, 
and  of  these  not  a  few,  and  also  conspicu- 
ous enough.  It  is  a  pity,  therefore,  that  the 
Baron  has  not  endeavored  to  surpass  them 
also  in  this  species  of  story-telling.  Who 
is  it  can  read  the  travels  of  Smellfungus, 
as  Sterne  calls  him,  without  admiration  ? 
To  think  that  a  person  from  the  North  of 
Scotland  should  travel  through  some  of  the 
finest  countries  in  Europe,  and  find  fault 
with  everything  he  meets — nothing  to  please 
him  1  And  therefore,  methinks,  the  "  Tour 
of  the  Hebrides  "  is  more  excusable,  and 
also  perhaps  Mr.  Twiss's  "  Tour  in  Ire- 
land." Dr.  Johnson,  bred  in  the  luxuriance 
of  London,  with  more  reason  should  be- 
come cross  and  splenetic  in  the  bleak  and 
dreary  region  of  the  Hebrides. 

The  Baron,  in  the  following  work,  seems 
to  be  sometimes  philosophical;  his  account 
of  the  language  of  the  interior  of  Africa, 
and  its  analogy  with  that  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Moon,  show  him  to  be  profoundly 
versed  in  the  etymological  antiquities  of 
nations,  and  throw  new  light  upon  the  ab- 
struse history  of  the  ancient  Scythians,  and 
the  Collectanea. 

His  endeavor  to  abolish  the  custom  of 
eating  live  flesh  in  the  interior  of  Africa,  as 
described  in  "  Bruce's  Travels,"  is  truly 
humane.  But  far  be  it  from  me  to  suppose, 
that  by  Gog  and  Magog  and  the  Lord 
Mayor's  show  he  means  a  satire  upon  any 
person  or  body  of  persons  whatever :  or  by 
a  tedious  litigated  trial  of  blind  judges  and 


dumb  matrons  following  a  wild-goose  chase 
all  around  the  world  he  should  glance  at 
any  trial  whatever. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  allow  that  it  was 
extremely  presumptuous  in  Munchausen  to 
tell  half  the  sovereigns  of  the  world  that 
they  were  wrong,  and  advise  them  what 
they  ought  to  do ;  and  that  instead  of  or- 
dering millions  of  their  subjects  to  massa- 
cre one  another,  it  would  be  more  to  their 
interest  to  employ  their  forces  in  concert  for 
the  general  good  ;  as  if  he  knew  better  than 
the  Empress  of  Russia,  the  Grand  Vizier, 
Prince  Potemkin,  or  any  other  butcher  in 
the  world.  But  that  he  should  be  a  royal 
Aristocrat,  and  take  the  part  of  the  injured 
Queen  of  France  in  the  present  political 
drama,  I  am  not  at  all  surprised ;  But  I 
suppose  his  mind  was  fired  by  reading  the 
pamphlet  written  by  Mr.  Burke. 

CHAPTER  I. 

[  The  Baron  is  supposed  to  relate  these  ad- 
ventures to  his  friends  over  a  bottle.} 

THE  BARON  RELATES  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS 
FIRST  TRAVELS — THE  ASTONISHING  EF- 
FECTS OF  A  STORM— ARRIVES  AT  CEY- 
LON; COMBATS  AND  CONQUERS  TWO 
EXTRAORDINARY  OPPONENTS  —  RETURNS 
TO  HOLLAND. 

SOME  time  before  my  beard  announced 
approaching  manhood,  or,  in  other  words?, 
when  I  was  neither  man  nor  boy,  but  be- 
tween both,  I  expressed  in  repeated 
conversations  a  strong  desire  of  seeing  the 
world,  from  which  I  was  discouraged  by 
my  parents,  though  my  father  had  been 
no  inconsiderable  traveller  himself,  as  will 
appear  before  I  have  reached  the  end  of 
my  singular,  and,  I  may  add,  interesting 
adventures.  A  cousin,  by  my  mother's 
side,  took  a  liking  to  me,  often  said  I  was 
a  fine  forward  youth,  and  was  much  in- 
clined to  gratify  my  curiosity.  His  elo- 
quence had  more  effect  than  mine,  for 
my  father  "consented  to  my  accompanying 
him  in  a  voyage  to  the  island  of  Ceylon, 
where  his  uncle  had  resided  as  governor 
many  years. 

We  sailed  from  Amsterdam  with  dii- 

gatches  from  their  High  Mightinesses  the 
tates  of  Holland.  The  only  circum- 
stance which  happened  on  our  voyage 
worth  relating  was  the  wonderful  effects 
of  a  storm,  which  had  torn  up  by  the 
roots  a  great  number  of  trees  of  enormous 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MDNCHAUSEN. 


oulk  and  height,  in  an  island  where  we 
lay  at  anchor  to  take  in  wood  and  water  ; 
some  of  these  trees  weighed  many  tons, 
yet  they  were  carried  by  the  wind  so 
amazingly  high  that  they  appeared  like 
the  feathers  of  small  birds  floating  in  the 
air,  for  they  were  at  least  five  miles  above 
the  earth  ;  however,  as  soon  as  the  storm 
subsided  they .  all  fell  perpendicularly 
into  their  respective  places,  and  took  root 
again,  except  the  largest,  which  happen- 
ed, when  it  was  blown  into  the  air,  to 
have  a  man  and  his  wife,  a  very  honest 
old  couple,  upon  its  branches,  gathering 
cucumbers  (in  this  part  of  the  globe  that 
useful  vegetable  grows  upon  trees) :  the 
weight  of  this  couple,  as  the  tree  descend- 
ed, overbalanced  the  trunk,  and  brought 
it  down  in  a  horizontal  position :  it  fell 
upon  the  chief  man  of  the  island,  and 
killed  him  on  the  spot ;  he  had  quitted 
his  house  in  the  storm,  under  an  appre- 
hension of  its  falling  upon  him,  and  was 
returning  through  his  own  garden  when 
this  fortunate  accident  happened. 

The  word  fortunate,  here,  requires  some 
explanation. 

The  chief  was  a  man  of  very  avaricious 
and  oppressive  disposition,  and  though 
he  had  no  family,  the  natives  of  the 
island  were  half  starved  by  his  oppressive 
and  infamous  impositions. 

The  very  goods  which  he  had  thus 
taken  from  them  were  spoiling  in  his 
stores,  while  the  poor  wretches  from  whom 
they  were  plundered  were  pining  in 
poverty.  Though  the  destruction  of  this 
tyrant  was  accidental,  the  people  chose 
the  cucumber-gatherers  for  their  govern- 
ors, as  a  mark  of  their  gratitude  for  de- 
stroying, though  accidentally,  their  late 
tyrant. 

After  we  had  repaired  the  damages  we 
sustained  in  this  remarkable  storm,  and 
taken  leave  of  the  new  governor  and  his 
lady,  we  sailed  with  a  fair  wind  for  the 
object  of  our  voyage. 

In  about  six  weeks  we  arrived  at  Cey- 
lon, where  we  were  received  with  great 
marks  of  friendship  and  true  politeness. 
The  following  singular  adventures  may 
not  prove  unentertaining. 

After  we  had  resided  at  Ceylon  about  a 
fortnight,  I  accompanied  one  of  the 
governor's  brothers  upon  a  shooting 
party.  He  was  a  strong,  athletic  man, 
and  being  used  to  that  climate  (for  he  had 
resided  there  some  years),  he  bore  the 


violent  heat  of  the  sun  much  better  than 
I  could  ;  in  our  excursion  he  had  made  a 
considerable  progress  through  a  thick 
wood  when  I  was  only  at  the  entrance. 

Near  the  banks  of  a  large  piece  of 
water  which  had  engaged  my  attention, 
I  thought  I  heard  a  rustling  noise  be- 
hind ;  on  turning  about  I  was  almost 
petrified  (as  who  would  not  be?)  at  the 
sight  of  a  lion,  which  was  evidently  ap- 
proaching with  the  intention  of  satisfying 
his  appetite  with  my  poor  carcass,  and 
that  without  asking  my  consent.  What 
was  to  be  done  in  this  horrible  dilemma  ? 
I  had  not  even  a  moment  for  reflection  ; 
my  piece  was  only  charged  with  swan- 
shot,  and  I  had  no  other  about  me  ;  how- 
ever, though  I  could  have  no  idea  of 
killing  such  an  animal  with  that  weak 
kind  of  ammunition,  yet  I  had  some  hopes 
of  frightening  him  by  the  report,  and 
perhaps  of  wounding  him  also.  I  imme- 
diately let  fly,  without  waiting  till  he  was 
within  reach,  and  the  report  did  but  en- 
rage him,  for  he  now  quickened  his  pace, 
and  seemed  to  approach  me  full  speed  :  I 
attempted  to  escape,  but  that  only  added 
(if  an  addition  could  be  made)  to  my 
distress ;  for  the  moment  I  turned  about 
I  found  a  large  crocodile,  with  his  mouth 
extended  almost  ready  to  receive  me. 

On  my  right  hand  was  the  piece  of 
water  before  mentioned,  and  on  my  left 
a  deep  precipice,  said  to  have,  as  I  have 
since  learned,  a  receptacle  at  the  bottom 
for  venomous  creatures ;  in  short,  I  gave 
myself  up  as  lost,  for  the  lion  was  now 
upon  his  hind  legs,  just  in  the  act  of  seiz- 
ing me ;  I  fell  involuntarily  to  the  ground 
with  fear,  and,  as  it  afterwards  appeared, 
he  sprang  over  me.  I  lay  some  time  in  a 
situation  which  no  language  can  describe, 
expecting  to  feel  his  teeth  or  talons  in  some 
part  of  me  every  moment:  after  waiting 
in  this  prostrate  situation  a  few  seconds  I 
heard  a  violent  but  unusual  noise,  dif- 
ferent from  any  sound  that  had  ever  be- 
fore assailed  my  ears ;  nor  is  it  at  all  to 
be  wondered  at,  when  I  inform  you  from 
whence  it  proceeded  :  after  listening  for 
some  time,  I  ventured  to  raise  my  head 
and  look  round,  when,  to  my  unspeakable 
joy,  I  perceived  the  lion  had,  by  the 
eagerness  with  which  he  sprang  at  me, 
jumped  forward  as  I  fell,  into  the  croco- 
dile's mouth  !  which,  as  before  observed, 
was  wide  open ;  the  head  of  the  one 
stuck  into  the  throat  of  the  other  I  and 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


197 


they  were  struggling  to  extricate  them- 
selves !  I  fortunately  recollected  my 
couteau  de  chasse,  which  was  by  my  side  ; 
with  this  instrument  I  severed  the  lion's 
head  at  one  blow,  and  the  body  fell  at  my 
feet !  I  then,  with  the  butt-end  of  my 
fowling-piece,  rammed  the  head  farther 
into  the  throat  of  the  crocodile,  and  de- 
stroyed him  by  suffocation,  for  he  could 
neither  gorge  nor  eject  it. 

Soon  after  I  had  thus  gained  a  com- 
plete victory  over  my  two  powerful  ad- 
versaries, my  companion  arrived  in  search 
of  me ;  for  rinding  I  did  not  follow  him 
into  the  wood,  he  returned,  apprehending 
I  had  lost  my  way,  or  met  with  some 
accident. 

After  mutual  congratulations,  we  mea- 
sured the  crocodile,  which  was  just  forty 
feet  in  length. 

As  soon  as  we  had  related  this  extra- 
ordinary adventure  to  the  governor,  he 
sent  a  wagon  and  servants,  who  brought 
home  the  two  carcasses.  The  lion's  skin 
was  properly  preserved,  with  its  hair  on, 
after  which  it  was  made  into  tobacco- 
pouches,  and  presented  by  me,  upon  our 
return  to  Holland,  to  the  burgomasters, 
who,  in  return,  requested  my  acceptance 
of  a  thousand  ducats. 

The  skin  of  the  crocodile  was  stuffed  in 
the  usual  manner,  and  makes  a  capital 
article  in  their  public  museum  at  Am- 
sterdam, where  the  exhibitor  relates  the 
whole  story  to  each  spectator,  with  such 
additions  as  he  thinks  proper.  Some  of 
his  variations  are  rather  extravagant ;  one 
of  them  is,  that  the  lion  jumped  quite 
through  the  crocodile,  and  was  making 
his  escape  at  the  back  door,  when,  as 
soon  as  his  head  appeared,  Monsieur  the 
Great  Baron  (as  he  is  pleased  to  call  me) 
cut  it  off,  and  three  feet  of  the  crocodile's 
tail  along  with  it ;  nay,  so  little  attention 
has  this  felloAv  to  the  truth,  that  he  some- 
times adds,  as  soon  as  the  crocodile 
missed  his  tail,  he  turned  about,  snatched 
the  couteau  de  chasse  out  of  monsieur's 
hand,  and  swallowed  it  with  such  eager- 
ness that  it  pierced  his  heart  and  killed 
him  immediately! 

The  little  regard  which  this  impudent 
knave  has  to  veracity  makes  me  some- 
times apprehensive  that  my  real  facts 
may  fall  under  suspicion,  by  being  found 
in  company  with  his  confounded  inven- 
tions. 


CHAPTER   II. 

IN  WHICH  THE  BARON  PROVES  HIMSELF  A 
GOOD  SHOT— HE  LOSES  HIS  HORSE,  AND 
FINDS  A  WOLF— MAKES  HIM  DRAW  HIS 
SLEDGE — PROMISES  TO  ENTERTAIN  HIS 
COMPANY  WITH  A  RELATION  OF  SUCH 
FACTS  AS  ARE  WELL  DESERVING  THEIB 
NOTICE. 

I  SET  off  from  Rome  on  a  journey  to 
Russia,  in  the  midst  of  winter,  from  a 
just  notion  that  frost  and  snow  must  of 
course  mend  the  roads,  which  every  tra- 
veller had  described  as  uncommonly  bad 
through  the  northern  parts  of  Germany, 
Poland,  Courland  and  Livonia.  I  went 
on  horseback,  as  the  most  convenient 
manner  of  travelling  ;  I  was  but  lightly 
clothed,  and  of  this  I  felt  the  inconve- 
nience the  more  I  advanced  northeast. 
What  must  not  a  poor  old  man  have  suf- 
fered in  that  severe  weather  and  climate, 
whom  I  saw  on  a  bleak  common  in  Po- 
land, lying  on  the  road,  helpless,  shiver- 
ing, and  hardly  having  wherewithal  to 
cover  his  nakedness  ?  I  pitied  the  poor 
soul :  though  I  felt  the  severity  of  the  air 
myself,  I  threw  my  mantle  over  him,  and 
immediately  I  heard  a  voice  from  the 
heavens,  blessing  me  for  that  piece  of 
charity,  saying  : 

"  You  will  be  rewarded,  my  son,  for  this 
in  time." 

I  went  on  :  night  and  darkness  overtook 
me.  No  village  was  to  be  seen.  The 
country  was  covered  with  snow,  and  I 
was  unacquainted  with  the  road. 

Tired,  I  alighted,  and  fastened  my  horse 
to  something  like  a  pointed  stump  of  a  tree 
which  appeared  above  the  snow ;  for  the 
sake  of  safety  I  placed  my  pistols  under 
my  arm,  and  laid  down  on  the  snow, 
where  I  slept  so  soundly  that  I  did  not 
open  my  eyes  till  full  daylight.  It  is  not 
easy  to  conceive  my  astonishment  to  find 
myself  in  the  midst  of  a  village,  lying  in  a 
church-yard :  nor  was  my  horse  to  be  seen, 
but  I  heard  him  soon  after  neigh  some- 
where above  me.  On  looking  upwards  I 
beheld  him  hanging  by  his  bridle  to  the 
weather-cock  of  the  steeple.  Matters 
were  now  very  plain  to  me ;  the  village 
had  been  covered  with  snow  overnight ; 
a  sudden  change  in  the  weather  had  taken 
place ;  I  had  sunk  down  to  the  church-yard 
whilst  asleep,  gently,  and  in  the  same 
proportion  as  the  snow  had  melted  away ; 
and  what  in  the  dark  I  had  taken  to  be  a 


198 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


stump  of  a  little  tree  appearing  above  the 
snow,  to  which  I  had  tied  my  horse, 
proved  to  have  been  the  cross  or  weather- 
cock of  the  steeple ! 

Without  long  consideration  I  took  one 
of  my  pistols,  shot  the  bridle  in  two, 
brought  down  the  horse  and  proceeded 
on  my  journey.  [Here  the  baron  seems 
to  have  forgot  his  feelings;  he  should 
certainly  have  ordered  his  norse  a  feed  of 
corn,  after  fasting  so  long.] 

He  carried  me  well — advancing  into  the 
interior  parts  of  Russia.  I  found  travel- 
ling on  horseback  rather  unfashionable  in 
winter,  therefore  I  submitted,  as  I  always 
do,  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  took  a 
single  horse  sledge,  and  drove  briskly  to- 
wards St.  Petersburg.  I  do  not  exactly  re- 
collect whether  it  was  in  Eastland  or  Juge- 
manland,  but  I  remember  that  in  the 
midst  of  a  dreary  forest  I  spied  a  terrible 
wolf  making  after  me  with  all  the  speed  of 
ravenous  winter  hunger.  He  soon  over- 
took me.  There  was  no  possibility  of  es- 
cape. Mechanically  I  laid  myself  down 
flat  in  the  sledge,  and  let  my  horse  run 
for  our  safety.  What  I  wished,  but  hard- 
ly hoped  or  expected,  happened  immedi- 
ately after.  The  wolf  did  not  mind  me  in 
the  least,  but  took  a  leap  over  me,  and 
falling  furiously  on  the  horse,  began  in- 
stantly to  tear  and  devour  the  hind-part 
of  the  poor  animal,  which  ran  the  faster 
for  his  pain  and  terror.  Thus  unnoticed 
and  safe  myself,  I  lifted  my  head  slyly  up, 
and  with  horror  I  beheld  that  the  wolf 
had  ate  his  way  into  the  horse's  body ;  it 
was  not  long  before  he  had  fairly  forced 
himself  into  it,  when  I  took  my  advan- 
tage, and  fell  upon  him  with  the  butt-end 
of  my  whip. 

This  unexpected  attack  in  his  rear 
frightened  him  so  much,  that  he  leaped 
forward  with  all  his  might :  the  horse's  car- 
cass dropped  on  the  ground.but  in  his  place 
the  wolf  was  in  the  harness,  and  I  on  my 
part  whipping  him  continually :  we  both 
arrived  in  full  career  safe  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, contrary  to  our  respective  expecta- 
tions, and  very  much  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  spectators. 

I  shall  not  tire  you,  gentlemen,  with 
the  politics,  arts,  sciences  and  history  of 
this  magnificent  metropolis  of  Russia, 
nor  trouble  you  with  the  various  intrigues 
and  pleasant  adventures  I  had  in  the  po- 
liter circles  of  that  country,  where  the 
lady  of  the  house  always  receives  the  visi- 


tor with  a  dram  and  a  salute.  I  shall 
confine  myself  rather  to  the  greater  and 
nobler  objects  of  your  attention,  horses 
and  dogs,  my  favorites  in  the  brute  crea- 
tion ;  also  to  foxes,  wolves  and  bears,  with 
which,  and  game  in  general,  Russia 
abounds  more  than  any  other  part  of  the 
world ;  and  to  such  sports,  manly  exer- 
cises, and  feats  of  gallantry  and  activity, 
as  show  the  gentleman  better  than  musty 
Greek  or  Latin,  or  all  the  perfume,  finery 
and  capers  of  French  wits  or  petit-mai- 
tres. 


CHAPTER   III. 

AN  ENCOUNTER  BETWEEN  THE  BARON'S  NOSE 
AND  A  DOOR-POST,  WITH  ITS  WONDERFUL 
EFFECT — FIFTY  BRACE  OF  DUCKS  AND 
OTHER  FOWL  DESTROYED  BY  ONE  SHOT — 
FLOGS  A  FOX  OUT  OF  HIS  SKIN — LEADS  AN 
OLD  SOW  HOME  IN  A  NEW  WAY,  AND  VAN- 
QUISHES A  WILD  BOAR. 

FOR  several  months  (as  it  was  some 
time  before  I  could  obtain  a  commission 
in  the  army)  I  was  perfectly  at  liberty  to 
sport  away  my  time  and  money  in  the 
most  gentleman-like  manner.  You  may 
easily  imagine  that  I  spent  much  of  both 
out  of  town  with  such  gallant  fellows  as 
knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  an  open 
forest  country.  The  very  recollection  of 
those  amusements  gives  me  fresh  spirits, 
and  creates  a  warm  wish  for  a  repetition 
of  them.  One  morning  I  saw,  through 
the  windows  of  my  bedroom,  that  a  large 

Sond  not  far  off  was  covered  with  wild 
ucks.  In  an  instant  I  took  mv  gun  from 
the  corner,  ran  down-stairs  and  out  of  the 
house  in  such  a  hurry  that  I  imprudently 
struck  my  face  against  the  door-post.  Fire 
flew  put  of  my  eyes,  but  it  did  not  prevent 
my  intention  ;  I  soon  came  within  shot, 
when,  leveling  my  piece,  I  observed  to  my 
sorrow,  that  even  the  flint  had  sprung 
from  the  cock  by  the  violence  of  the 
shock  I  had  just  received.  There  was  no 
time  to  be  lost.  I  presently  remembered 
the  effect  it  had  on  my  eyes,  therefore 
opened  the  pan,  leveled  my  piece  against 
the  wild  fowls,  and  my  fist  against  one  of 
my  eyes.  [The  Baron's  eyes  have  re- 
tained fire  ever  since,  and  appear  parti- 
cularly illuminated  when  he  relates  this 
anecdote.]  A  hearty  blow  drew  sparks 
again ;  the  shot  went  off,  and  I  killed 
fifty  brace  of  ducks,  twenty  widgeons, 
and  three  couple  of  teals. 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


199 


Presence  of  mind  is  the  soul  of  manly 
exercises.  If  soldiers  and  sailors  owe  to 
it  many  of  their  lucky  escapes,  hunters 
and  sportsmen  are  not  less  beholden  to  it 
for  many  of  their  successes.  In  a  noble 
forest  in  Russia  I  met  a  fine  black  fox, 
whose  valuable  skin  it  would  have  been  a 
pity  to  tear  by  ball  or  shot.  Reynard 
stood  close  to  a  tree.  In  a  twinkling  I 
took  out  my  ball,  and  placed  a  good  spike- 
nail  in  its  room,  fired,  and  hit  him  so 
cleverly  that  I  nailed  his  brush  fast  to 
the  tree.  I  now  went  up  to  him,  took  out 
my  hanger,  gave  him  a  cross-cut  over  the 
face,  laid  hold  of  my  whip,  and  fairly 
flogged  him  out  of  his  fine  skin. 

Chance  and  good  luck  often  correct  our 
mistakes ;  of  this  I  had  a  singular  instance 
soon  after,  when,  in  the  depth  of  a  forest, 
I  saw  a  wild  pig  and  sow  running  close 
behind  each  other.  My  ball  had  missed 
them,  yet  the  foremost  pig  only  ran  away, 
and  the  sow  stood  motionless,  as  fixed 
to  the  ground.  On  examining  into  the 
matter,  I  found  the  latter  one  to  be  an  old 
sow,  blind  with  age,  which  had  taken  hold 
of  her  pig's  tail,  in  order  to  be  led  along 
by  filial  duty.  My  ball,  having  passed 
between  the  two,  had  cut  his  leading- 
string,  which  the  old  sow  continued  to 
hold  in  her  mouth ;  and  as  her  former 
guide  did  not  draw  her  on  any  longer,  she 
had  stopped  of  course ;  I  therefore  laid 
hold  of  the  remaining  end  of  the  pig's  tail, 
and  led  the  old  beast  home  without  any 
larther  trouble  on  my  part,  and  without 
any  reluctance  or  apprehension  on  the 
part  of  the  helpless  old  animal. 

Terrible  as  these  wild  sows  are,  yet  more 
tierce  and  dangerous  are  the  boars,  one  of 
which  I  had  once  the  misfortune  to  meet 
in  a  forest,  unprepared  for  attack  or  de- 
fense. I  retired  behind  an  oak-tree  just 
when  the  furious  animal  leveled  a  side- 
blow  at  me,  with  such  force,  that  his 
tusks  pierced  through  the  tree,  by  which 
means  he  could  neither  repeat  the  blow 
nor  retire.  Ho,  ho !  thought  I,  I  shall 
soon  have  you  now !  and  immediately  I 
laid  hold  of  a  stone,  wherewith  I  ham- 
mered and  bent  his  tusks  in  such  a  manner, 
that  he  could  not  retreat  by  any  means, 
and  must  wait  my  return  from  the  next 
village,  whither  I  went  for  ropes  and  a 
cart,  to  secure  him  properly,  and  to  carry 
him  off  safe  and  alive,  in  which  I  perfectly 
succeeded. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

REFLECTIONS  ON  SAINT  HUBERT'S  STAG — 
SHOOTS  A  STAG  WITH  CHERRY-STONES; 
THE  WONDERFUL  EFFECTS  OF  IT — KILLS  A 
BEAR  BY  EXTRAORDINARY  DEXTERITY  : 
HIS  DANGER  PATHETICALLY  DESCRIBED — 
ATTACKED  BY  A  WOLF,  WHICH  HE  TURNS 
INSIDE  OUT — IS  ASSAILED  BY  A  MAD  DOG, 
FROM  WHICH  HE  ESCAPES — THE  BARON'S 
CLOAK  SEIZED  WITH  MADNESS,  BY  WHICH 
HIS  WHOLE  WARDROBE  IS  THROWN  INTO 
CONFUSION. 

I  DARE  say  you  have  heard  of  the  hun- 
ter and  sportsman's  saint  and  protector, 
St.  Hubert,  and  of  the  noble  stag,  which 
appeared  to  him  in  the  forest,  with  the 
holy  cross  between  his  antlers.  I  have 
paid  my  homage  to  that  saint  every  year 
in  good  fellowship,  and  seen  this  stag  a 
thousand  times  either  painted  in  churches, 
or  embroidered  in  the  stars  of  his  knights  ; 
so  that,  upon  the  honor  and  conscience  of 
a  good  sportsman,  I  hardly  know  whether 
there  may  not  have  been  formerly,  or 
whether  there  are  not  such  crossed  stags 
even  at  this  present  day.  But  let  me 
rather  tell  what  I  have  seen  myself. 
Having  one  day  spent  all  my  shot,  I 
found  myself  unexpectedly  in  presence  of 
a  stately  stag,  looking  at  me  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  if  he  had  known  of  my  empty 
pouches.  I  charged  immediately  with 
powder,  and  upon  it  a  good  handful  of 
cherry-stones,  for  I  had  sucked  the  fruit 
as  far  as  the  hurry  would  permit.  Thus 
I  let  fly  at  him,  and  hit  him  just  on  the 
middle  of  the  forehead,  between  his  ant- 
lers; it  stunned  him — he  staggered — yet 
he  made  off.  A  year  or  two  after,  being 
with  a  party  in  the  same  forest,  I  beheld 
a  noble  stag  with  a  fine  grown  cherry-tree 
above  ten  feet  high  between  his  antlers. 

I  immediately  recollected  my  former 
adventure,  looked  upon  him  as  my  pro- 
perty, and  brought  him  to  the  ground  by 
one  shot,  which  at  once  gave  me  the 
haunch  and  cherry-sauce;  for  >the  tree 
was  covered  with  the  richest  fruit,  the 
like  I  had  never  tasted  before.  Who 
knows  but  some  passionate,  holy  sports- 
man, or  sporting  abbot  or  bishop,  may 
have  shot,  planted  and  fixed  the  cross  be- 
tween the  antlers  of  St.  Hubert's  stag,  in 
a  manner  similar  to  this?  They  always 
have  been,  and  still  are,  famous  for  plan- 
tations of  crosses  and  antlers ;  and  in  a 
case  of  distress  or  dilemma,  which  too 
often  happens  to  keen  sportsmen,  one  ia 


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apt  to  grasp  at  anything  for  safety,  and  to 
try  any  expedient  rather  than  miss  the 
favorable  opportunity.  I  have  many  times 
found  myself  in  that  trying  situation. 

What  do  you  say  of  this,  for  example? 
Daylight  and  powder  were  spent  one  day 
in  a  Polish  forest.  When  I  was  going 
home  a  terrible  bear  made  up  to  me  in 
great  speed,  with  open  mouth,  ready  to 
fall  upon  me ;  all  my  pockets  were  search- 
ed in  an  instant  for  powder  and  ball,  but 
in  vain ;  I  found  nothing  but  two  spare 
flints:  one  I  flung  with  all  my  might  into 
the  monster's  open  jaws,  down  his  throat. 
Itgave  him  pain  and  made  him  turn  about, 
so  that  I  could  level  the  second  at  his 
back-door ;  which,  indeed,  I  did  with 
wonderful  success  ;  for  it  flew  in,  met  the 
first  flint  in  the  stomach,  struck  fire,  and 
blew  up  the  bear  with  a  terrible  explosion. 
Though  I  came  safe  off  that  time,  yet  I 
should  not  wish  to  try  it  again,  or  venture 
against  bears  with  no  other  ammunition. 

There  is  a  kind  of  fatality  in  it.  The 
fiercest  and  most  dangerous  animals  gener- 
ally came  upon  me  when  defenseless,  as 
if  they  had  a  notion  or  an  instinctive  inti- 
mation of  it.  Thus  a  frightful  wolf  rushed 
upon  me  so  suddenly,  and  so  close,  that  I 
could  do  nothing  but  follow  mechanical 
instinct,  and  thrust  my  fist  into  his  open 
mouth.  For  safety's  sake  I  pushed  on  and 
on,  till  my  arm  was  fairly  in  up  to  the 
shoulder.  How  should  I  disengage  my- 
self? I  was  not  much  pleased  with  my 
awkward  situation— with  a  wolf  face  to 
face;  our  ogling  was  not  of  the  most 
pleasant  kind.  If  I  withdrew  my  arm, 
ithen  the  animal  would  fly  the  more  furi- 
ously upon  me ;  that  I  saw  in  his  flaming 
tyes.  In  short,  I  laid  hold  of  his  tail, 
turned  him  inside  out  like  a  glove,  and 
flung  him  to  the  ground,  where  I  left  him. 

The  same  expedient  would  not  have 
answered  against  a  mad  dog,  which  soon 
after  came  running  against  me  in  a  narrow 
street  at  St.  Petersburg.  Hun  who  can,  I 
thought ;  and  to  do  this  the  better,  I  threw 
off  my  fur  cloak,  and  was  safe  within  doors 
in  an  instant.  I  sent  my  servant  for  the 
cloak,  and  he  put  it  in  the  wardrobe  with 
my  other  clothes.  The  day  after  I  was 
amazed  and  frightened  by  Jack's  bawling, 
"  For  God's  sake,  sir,  your  fur  cloak  is 
mad  ! "  I  hastened  up  to  him,  and  found 
almost  all  my  clothes  tossed  about  and 
torn  to  pieces.  The  fellow  was  perfectly 
right  in  his  apprehensions  about  the  fur 


cloak's  madness.  I  saw  him  myself  just 
then  falling  upon  a  fine  full-dress  suit, 
which  he  shook  and  tossed  in  an  unmerci- 
ful manner. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  EFFECTS  OF  GEEAT  ACTIVITY  AND  PRE- 
SENCE OF  MIND — A  FAVORITE  HOUND  DE- 
SCRIBED, WHICH  PUPS  WHILE  PURSUING  A 
HARE;  THE  HARE  ALSO  LITTERS  WHILE 
PURSUED  BY  THE  HOUND  —  PRESENTED 
WITH  A  FAMOUS  HORSE  RY  COUNT  PRZO- 
BOSSKY,  WITH  WHICH  HE  PERFORMS  MANY 
EXTRAORDINARY  FEATS. 

ALL  these  narrow  and  lucky  escapes, 
gentlemen,  were  chances  turned  to  ad- 
vantage by  presence  of  mind  and  vigorous 
exertions,  which,  taken  together,  as  every- 
body knows,  make  the  fortunate  sports- 
man, sailor,  and  soldier ;  but  he  would  be 
a  very  blamable  and  imprudent  sportsman, 
admiral,  or  general,  who  would  always 
depend  upon  chance  and  his  stars,  with- 
out troubling  himself  about  those  arts 
which  are  their  particular  pursuits,  and 
without  providing  the  very  best  imple- 
ments, which  insure  success.  I  was  not 
blamable  either  way;  for  I  have  always 
been  as  remarkable  for  the  excellency  of 
my  horses,  dogs,  guns,  and  swords,  as  for 
the  proper  manner  of  using  and  managing 
them,  so  that  upon  the  whole  I  may  hope 
to  be  remembered  in  the  forest,  upon  the 
turf,  and  in  the  field.  I  shall  not  ente» 
here  into  any  details  of  my  stables,  ken- 
nel, or  armory :  but  a  favorite  bitch  of 
mine  I  cannot  help  mentioning  to  you ; 
she  was  a  greyhound,  and  I  never  had  or 
saw  a  better.  She  grew  old  in  my  ser- 
vice, and  was  not  remarkable  for  her  size, 
but  rather  for  her  uncommon  swiftness.  I 
always  coursed  with  her.  Had  you  seen 
her  you  must  have  admired  her,  and  would 
not  have  wondered  at  my  predilection, 
and  at  my  coursing  her  so  much.  She  ran 
so  fast,  so  much,  and  so  long  in  my  ser- 
vice, that  she  actually  ran  off  her  legs ;  so 
that,  in  the  latter  part  of  her  life,  I  was 
under  the  necessity  of  working  and  using 
her  only  as  a  terrier,  in  which  quality 
she  still  served  me  many  years. 

Coursing  one  day  a  hare,  which  ap 
peared  to  me  uncommonly  big,  I  pitied  my 
poor  bitch,  being  big  with  pups,  yet  she 
would  course  as  fast  as  ever.  I  could 
follow  her  on  horseback  only  at  a  great 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


201 


distance.  At  once  I  heard  a  cry  as  it 
were  of  a  pack  of  hounds — but  so  weak  and 
faint  that  I  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of 
it. 

Coming  up  to  them,  I  was  greatly  sur- 
prised. The  hare  had  littered  in  run- 
ning ;  the  same  had  happened  to  my  bitch 
in  coursing,  and  there  were  just  as  many 
leverets  as  pups.  By  instinct  the  former 
ran,  the  latter  coursed :  and  thus  I  found 
myself  in  possession  at  once  of  six  hares, 
and  as  many  dogs,  at  the  end  of  a  course 
which  had  only  begun  with  one. 

1  remember  this,  my  wonderful  bitch, 
with  the  same  pleasure  and  tenderness  as 
a  superb  Lithuanian  horse,  which  no 
money  could  have  bought.  He  became 
mine  by  an  accident,  which  gave  me  an  op- 
portunity of  showing  my  horsemanship  to 
a  great  advantage.  I  was  at  Count  Przo- 
bossky's  noble  country-seat  in  Lithuania, 
and  remained  with  the  ladies  at  tea  in  the 
drawing-room,  while  the  gentlemen  were 
down  in  the  yard,  to  see  a  young  horse 
of  blood  which  had  just  arrived  from  the 
stud. 

We  suddenly  heard  a  noise  of  dis- 
tress. I  hastened  down-stairs,  and  found 
the  horse  so  unruly  that  nobody  durst 
approach  or  mount  him.  The  most  re- 
solute horseman  stood  dismayed  and 
aghast:  despondency  was  expressed  in 
every  countenance,  when,  in  one  leap,  I 
was  on  his  back,  took  him  by  surprise, 
and  worked  him  quite  into  gentleness  and 
obedience,  with  the  best  display  of  horse- 
manship I  was  master  of.  Fully  to  show 
this  to  the  ladies,  and  save  them  unneces- 
sary trouble,  I  forced  him  to  leap  in  at 
one  of  the  open  windows  of  the  tea-room, 
walked  round  several  times,  pace,  trot 
and  gallop,  and  at  last  made  him  mount 
the  tea-table,  there  to  repeat  his  lessons 
in  a  pretty  style  of  miniature  which  was 
exceedingly  pleasing  to  the  ladies,  for  he 
performed  them  amazingly  well,  and  did 
not  break  either  cup  or  saucer.  It  placed 
me  so  high  ia  their  opinion,  and  so  well 
in  that  of  the  noble  lord,  that,  with  his 
usual  politeness,  he  begged  I  would  accept 
of  this  young  horse,  and  ride  him  full 
career  to  conquest  and  honor  in  the  cam- 
paign against  the  Turks,  which  was  soon 
to  be  opened,  under  the  command  of 
Count  Munich. 

I  could  not  indeed  have  received  a  more 
agreeable  present,  nor  a  more  ominous 
one  at  the  opening  of  that  campaign,  in 


which  I  made  my  apprenticeship  as  a 
soldier.  A  horse  so  gentle,  so  spirited, 
and  so  fierce — at  once  a  lamb  and  a  Buce- 
phalus— put  me  always  in  mind  of  the 
soldier's  and  the  gentleman's  duty !  of 
young  Alexander,  and  of  the  astonishing 
things  he  performed  in  the  field. 

We  took  the  field,  among  several  other 
reasons,  it  seems,  with  an  intention  to  re- 
trieve the  character  of  the  Russian  arms, 
which  had  been  blemished  a  little  by 
Czar  Peter's  last  campaign  on  the  Pruth ; 
and  this  we  fully  accomplished  by  several 
very  fatiguing  and  glorious  campaigns 
under  the  command  of  that  great  general 
I  mentioned  before. 

Modesty  forbids  individuals  to  arrogate 
to  themselves  great  successes  or  victories, 
the  glory  of  which  is  generally  engrossed 
by  the  commander — nay,  which  is  rather 
awkward,  by  kings  and  queens  who  never 
smelt  gunpowder  but  at  the  field-days  and 
reviews  of  their  troops ;  never  saw  a  field 
of  battle,  or  an  enemy  in  battle  array. 

Nor  do  I  claim  any  particular  share  of 
glory  in  the  great  engagements  with  the 
enemy.  We  all  did  our  duty,  which,  in 
the  patriot's,  soldier's,  and  gentleman's 
language,  is  a  very  comprehensive  word, 
of  great  honor,  meaning  and  import,  and 
of  which  the  generality  of  idle  quidnunca 
and  coffee-house  politicians  can  hardly 
form  any  but  a  very  mean  and  contempt- 
ible idea.  However,  having  had  the  com- 
mand of  a  body  of  hussars,  I  went  upon 
several  expeditions,  with  discretionary 
powers  ;  and  the  success  I  then  met  with 
is,  I  think,  fairly  and  only  to  be  placed  to 
my  account,  and  to  that  of  the  brave  fel- 
lows whom  I  led  on  to  conquest  and  to 
victory. 

We  had  very  hot  work  once  in  the 
van  of  the  army,  when  we  drove  the 
Turks  into  Oczakow.  My  spirited  Lithu- 
anian had  almost  brought  me  into  a 
scrape :  I  had  advanced  fore-post,  and  saw 
the  enemy  coming  against  me  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  which  left  me  rather  uncertain 
about  their  actual  numbers  and  real  in- 
tentions :  to  wrap  myself  up  in  a  similar 
cloud  was  common  prudence  but  wouid 
not  have  much  advanced  my  know- 
ledge or  answered  the  end  for  which 
I  had  been  sent  out ;  therefore  I  let  my 
flankers  on  both  wings  speed  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  make  what  dint  they  could, 
and  I  myself  led  on  straight  upon  the 
enemy,  to  have  a  nearer  sight  of  them ; 


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TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


in  this  I  was  gratified,  for  they  stood  and 
fought,  till,  for  fear  of  my  flankers,  they 
began  to  move  off  rather  disorderly.  This 
was  the  moment  to  fall  upon  them  with 
spirit;  we  broke  them  entirely — made  a 
terrible  havoc  amongst  them,  and  drove 
them  not  only  back  to  a  walled  town  in 
their  rear,  but  even  through  it,  contrary 
to  our  most  sanguine  expectation. 

The  swiftness  of  my  Lithuanian  en- 
abled me  to  be  foremost  in  thepmsuit; 
and  seeing  the  enemy  fairly  flying  through 
the  opposite  gate,  I  thought  it  would  be 
prudent  to  stop  in  the  market-place,  to 
order  the  men  to  rendezvous.  I  stopped, 
gentlemen  ;  but  judge  of  my  astonishment 
when  in  this  market-place  I  saw  not  one 
of  my  hussars  about  me !  Are  they  scour- 
ing the  other  streets  ?  or  what  is 'become  of 
them?  They  could  not  be  far  off,  and 
must,  at  all  events,  soon  join  me.  In  that 
expectation  I  walked  my  panting  Lithu- 
anian to  a  spring  in  this  market-place, 
and  let  him  drink.  He  drank  uncommonly, 
with  an  eagerness  not  to  be  satisfied,  but 
natural  enough  ;  for  when  I  looked  round 
for  my  men,  what  should  I  see,  gentle- 
men !  the  hind  part  of  the  poor  creature 
— croup  and  legs  were  missing,  as  if  he 
had  been  cut  in  two,  and  the  water  ran 
out  as  it  came  in,  without  refreshing  or 
doing  him  any  good  !  How  it  could  have 
happened  was  quite  a  mystery  to  me,  till 
I  returned  with  him  to  the  town-gate. 
There  I  saw  that  when  I  rushed  in  pell- 
mell  with  the  flying  enemy,  they  had 
dropped  the  portcullis  (a  heavy  falling 
door,  with  sharp  spikes  at  the  bottom,  let 
down  suddenly  to  prevent  the  entrance  of 
an  enemy  into  the  fortified  town)  unper- 
ceived  by  me,  which  had  totally  cut  off 
his  hind  part,  that  still  lay  quivering  on 
the  outside  of  the  gate.  It  would  have 
been  an  irreparable  loss,  had  not  our 
farrier  contrived  to  bring  both  parts  to- 
gether while  hot.  He  sewed  them  up 
with  sprigs  and  young  shoots  of  laurels 
that  were  at  hand ;  the  wound  healed, 
and,  what  could  not  have  happened  but 
to  so  glorious  a  horse,  the  sprigs  took 
root  in  his  body,  grew  up  and  formed  a 
bower  over  me ;  so  that  afterwards  I 
could  go  upon  many  other  expeditions  in 
the  shade  of  my  own  and  my  horse's 
iaurels. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  BARON  IS  MADE  A  PRISONER  OF  WAR, 
AND  SOLD  FOR  A  SLAVE — KEEPS  THE  SUL- 
TAN'S BEES,  WHICH  ARE  ATTACKED  BY  TWO 
BEARS— LOSES  ONE  OF  HIS  BEES ;  A  SILVER 
HATCHET,  WHICH  HE  THROWS  AT  THE 
BEARS,  REBOUNDS  AND  FLIES  UP  TO  THE 
MOON  ;  BRINGS  IT  BACK  BY  AN  INGENIOUS 
INVENTION;  FALLS  TO  THE  EARTH  ON  HIS 
RETURN,  AND  HELPS  HIMSELF  OUT  OF  A 
PIT — EXTRICATES  HIMSELF  FROM  A  CAR- 
RIAGE WHICH  MEETS  HIS  IN  A  NARROW 

ROAD,  IN  A  MANNER  NEVER  BEFORE  AT- 
TEMPTED NOR  PRACTICED  SINCE  —  THE 
WONDERFUL  EFFECTS  OF  THE  FROST  UPON 
HIS  SERVANT'S  FRENCH  HORN. 

SUCCESS  was  not  always  with  me.  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  be  overpowered  by 
numbers,  to  be  made  prisoner  of  war :  and, 
what  is  worse,  but  always  usual  among 
the  Turks,  to  be  sold  for  a  slave.  [The 
Baron  was  afterwards  in  great  favor  with 
the  Grand  Seignior,  as  will  appear  here- 
after.] In  that  state  of  humiliation  my 
daily  task  was  not  very  hard  and  labori- 
ous, but  rather  singular  and  irksome.  It 
was  to  drive  the  Sultan's  bees  every  morn- 
ing to  their  pasture-grounds,  to  attend 
them  all  the  day  long,  and  against  night 
to  drive  them  back  to  their  hives.  One 
evening  I  missed  a  bee,  and  soon  observed 
that  two  bears  had  fallen  upon  her  to  tear 
her  to  pieces  for  the  honey  she  carried.  I 
had  nothing  like  an  offensive  weapon  in 
my  hands  but  the  silver  hatchet,  which  is 
the  badge  of  the  Sultan's  gardeners  and 
farmers.  I  threw  it  at  the  robbers,  with 
an  intention  to  frighten  them  away,  and 
set  the  poor  bee  at  liberty ;  but  by  an  un- 
lucky turn  of  my  arm,  it  flew  upwards, 
and  continued  rising  till  it  reached  the 
moon.  How  should  I  recover  it?  how 
fetch  it  down  again?  I  recollected  that 
Turkey-beans  grow  very  quick,  and  run 
up  to  an  astonishing  height.  I  planted 
one  immediately ;  it  grew,  and  actually 
fastened  itself  to  one  of  the  moon's  horns. 
I  had  no  more  to  do  now  but  to  climb  up 
by  it  into  the  moon,  where  I  safely  ar- 
rived, and  had  a  troublesome  piece  of 
business  before  I  could  find  my  silver 
hatchet,  in  a  place  where  everything  has 
the  brightness  of  silver ;  at  last,  however, 
I  found  it  in  a  heap  of  chaff  and  chopped 
straw.  I  was  now  for  returning :  but, 
alas!  the  heat  of  the  sun  had  dried  up  my 
bean ;  it  was  totally  useless  for  my  de- 
scent; so  I  fell  to  work  and  twisted  me  a 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


*ope  of  that  chopped  straw,  as  long  and  as 
well  as  I  could  make  it.  This  I  fastened 
to  one  of  the  moon's  horns,  and  slid  down 
to  the  end  of  it.  Here  I  held  myself  fast 
with  the  left  hand,  and  with  the  hatchet 
in  my  right  I  cut  the  long,  now  useless 
end  of  the  upper  part,  which,  when  tied 
to  the  lower  end,  brought  me  a  good  deal 
lower :  this  repeated  splicing  and  tying 
of  the  rope  did  not  improve  its  quality,  or 
bring  me  down  to  the  Sultan's  farm.  I 
was  four  or  five  miles  from  the  earth  at 
least  when  it  broke ;  I  fell  to  the  ground 
with  such  amazing  violence,  that  I  found 
myself  stunned,  and  in  a  hole  nine  fathoms 
deep  at  least,  made  by  the  weight  of  my 
body  falling  from  so  great  a  height:  I  re- 
covered, but  knew  not  how  to  get  out 
again ;  however,  I  dug  slopes  or  steps 
with  my  finger-nails  (the  Baron's  nails 
were  then  of  forty  years  growth),  and 
easily  accomplished  it. 

Peace  was  soon  after  concluded  with 
the  Turks,  and  gaining  my  liberty,  I  left 
St.  Petersburg  at  the  time  of  that  singular 
revolution,  when  the  emperor  in  his 
cradle,  his  mother,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick, 
her  father,  Field-marshal  Munich,  and 
many  others  were  sent  to  Siberia.  The 
winter  was  then  so  uncommonly  severe  all 
over  Europe,  that  ever  since  the  sun  seems 
to  be  frost-bitten.  At  my  return  to  this 
place,  I  felt  on  the  road  greater  incon- 
veniences than  those  I  had  experienced 
on  my  setting  out. 

I  travelled  post,  and  finding  myself  in  a 
narrow  lane,  bid  the  postilion  to  give  a 
signal  with  his  horn,  that  other  travellers 
might  not  meet  us  in  the  narrow  passage. 
He  blew  with  all  his  might ;  but  hia  en- 
deavors were  in  vain,  he  could  not  make 
the  horn  sound,  which  was  unaccountable 
and  rather  unfortunate,  for  soon  after  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  another 
coach  coming  the  other  way :  there  was 
no  proceeding ;  however,  I  got  out  of  my 
carriage,  and  being  pretty  strong,  placed 
it,  wheels  and  all,  upon  my  head :  I  then 
jumped  over  a  hedge  about  nine  feet  high 
(which,  considering  the  weight  of  the 
coach,  was  rather  difficult)  into  a  field, 
and  came  out  again  by  another  jump  into 
the  road  beyond  the  other  carriage :  I 
then  went  back  for  the  horses,  and  plac- 
ing one  upon  iny  head,  and  the  other  un- 
der my  left  arm,  by  the  same  means 
brought  them  to  my  coach,  put  to,  and 
proceeded  to  an  inn  at  the  end  of  our 


I  should  have  told  you  that  the 
horse  under  my  arm  was  very  spirited,  and 
not  above  four  years  old  ;  in  making  my 
second  spring  over  the  hedge,  he  express- 
ed great  dislike  to  that  violent  kind  of 
motion  by  kicking  and  snorting ;  how- 
ever, I  confined  his  hind  legs  by  putting 
them  into  my  coat  pocket.  After  we  ar- 
rived at  the  inn,  my  postilion  and  I  re- 
freshed ourselves :  he  hung  his  horn  on  a 
peg  near  the  kitchen  fire ;  I  sat  on  the  other 
side. 

Suddenly  we  heard  a  tereng  I  tereng  I 
teng  t  teng  I  We  looked  round,  and  now 
found  the  reason  why  the  postilion  had 
not  been  able  to  sound  his  horn  ;  his 
tunes  were  frozen  up  in  the  horn,  and 
came  out  now  by  thawing,  plain  enough, 
and  much  to  the  credit  of  the  driver  ;  so 
that  the  honest  fellow  entertained  us  for 
some  time  by  a  variety  of  tunes,  without 
putting  his  mouth  to  the  horn — The  King 
of  Prussia's  March — Over  the  Hill  and 
Over  the  Dale — with  many  other  favorite 
tunes ;  at  length  the  thawing  entertainment 
concluded,  as  I  shall  this  short  account  of 
my  Russian  travels. 

[Some  travellers  are  apt  to  advance  more 
than  is  perhaps  strictly  true ;  if  any  of  the 
company  entertain  a  doubt  of  my  vera- 
city, I  shall  only  say  to  such,  I  pity  their 
want  of  faith,  and  must  request  they  will 
take  leave  before  I  begin  the  second  part 
of  my  adventures,  which  are  as  strictly 
founded  in  fact  as  those  I  have  already 
related.] 


PAKT  II. 

CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  BARON  RELATES  HIS  ADVENTURES  OH 
A  VOYAGE  TO  NORTH  AMERICA,  WHICH 
ARE  WELL  WORTH  THE  READER'S  ATTEN- 
TION— PRANKS  OF  A  WHALE — A  SEAGULL 
SAVES  A  SAILOR'S  LIFE  —  THE  BARON'S 
HEAD  FORCED  INTO  HIS  STOMACH— A  DAN- 
GEROUS LEAK  STOPPED  "A  POSTERIORI." 

I  EMBARKED  at  Portsmouth  in  a  first- 
rate  English  man-of-war,  of  one  hundred 
guns,  and  fourteen  hundred  men,  for 
North  America.  Nothing  worth  relating 
happened  till  we  arrived  within  three 
hundred  leagues  of  the  river  St.  Lawrence, 
when  the  ship  struck  with  amazing  force 
against  (as  we  supposed)  a  rock  ;  how- 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


ever,  upon  heaving  the  lead,  we  could  find 
no  bottom,  even  with  three  hundred  fath- 
om. What  made  this  circumstance  the 
more  wonderful,  and  indeed  beyond  all 
comprehension,  was,  that  the  violence  of 
the  shock  was  such  that  we  lost  our  rud- 
der, broke  our  bowsprit  in  the  middle, 
and  split  all  our  masts  from  top  to  bottom, 
two  of  which  went  by  the  board  ;  a  poor 
fellow,  who  was  aloft  furling  the  main- 
sheet,  was  flung  at  least  three  leagues 
from  the  ship ;  but  he  fortunately  saved 
his  life  by  laying  hold  of  the  tail  of  a  large 
sea-gull,  who  brought  him  back,  and 
lodged  him  on  the  very  spot  from  whence 
he  was  thrown.  Another  proof  of  the  vio- 
lence of  the  shock  was  the  force  with  which 
the  people  between  decks  were  driven 
against  the  floors  above  them;  my  head 
particularly  was  pressed  into  my  stomach, 
where  it  continued  some  months  before  it 
recovered  its  natural  situation.  Whilst 
we  were  all  in  a  state  of  astonishment  at 
the  general  and  unaccountable  confusion 
in  which  we  were  involved,  the  whole  was 
suddenly  explained  by  the  appearance  of 
a  large  whale  who  had  been  basking, 
asleep,  within  sixteen  feet  of  the  surface 
of  the  water.  This  animal  was  so  much 
displeased  with  the  disturbance  which  our 
ship  had  given  him,  for  in  our  passage  we 
had  with  our  rudder  scratched  his  nose, 
that  he  beat  in  all  the  gallery  and  part  of 
ithe  quarter-deck  with  his  tail,  and  almost 
.at  the  same  instant  took  the  main-sheet 
anchor,  which  was  suspended,  as  it  usually 
is,  from  the  head,  between  his  teeth,  and 
ran  away  with  the  ship,  at  least  sixty 
leagues,  at  the  rate  of  twelve  leagues  an 
hour,  when  fortunately  the  cable  broke, 
and  we  lost  both  the  whale  and  the  anchor. 
However,  upon  our  return  to  Europe, 
some  months  after,  we  found  the  same 
whale  within  a  few  leagues  of  the  same 
spot,  floating  dead  upon  the  water ;  it 
measured  above  half  a  mile  in  length.  As 
we  could  take  but  a  small  quantity  of 
such  a  monstrous  animal  on  board,  we  got 
our  boats  out,  and  with  much  difficulty 
cut  off  his  head,  where,  to  our  great  joy, 
we  found  the  anchor,  and  above  forty 
fathom  of  the  cable,  concealed  on  the  left 
side  of  his  mouth,  just  under  his  tongue. 
[Perhaps  this  was  the  cause  of  his  death, 
RS  that  side  of  his  tongue  was  much  swelled 
with  a  great  degree  of  inflammation.] 
This  was  the  only  extraordinary  circum- 
stance that  happened  on  this  voyage. 


One  part  of  our  distress,  however,  I  had 
like  to  have  forgot :  while  the  whale  was 
running  away  with  the  ship  she  sprung  a 
leak,  and  the  water  poured  in  so  fast  that 
all  our  pumps  could  not  keep  us  from 
sinking ;  it  was,  however,  my  good  fortune 
to  discover  it  first.  I  found  it  a  large  hole 
about  a  foot  in  diameter ;  you  will  natu- 
rally suppose  this  circumstance  gives  me 
infinite  pleasure,  when  I  inform  you  that 
this  noble  vessel  was  preserved  with  all  its 
crew,  by  a  most  fortunate  thought !  In 
short,  I  sat  down  over  it,  and  could  have 
dispensed  with  it  had  it  been  larger ;  nor 
will  you  be  surprised  when  I  inform  you 
I  am  descended  from  Dutch  parents.  [The 
Baron's  ancestors  have  but  lately  settled 
there  ;  in  another  part  of  his  adventures 
he  boasts  of  royal  blood.] 

My  situation,  while  I  sat  there,  was  ra- 
ther cool,  but  the  carpenter's  art  soon  re- 
lieved me. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BATHES  IN  THE  MEDITERRANEAN —  MEETS 
AN  UNEXPECTED  COMPANION — ARRIVES 
UNINTENTIONALLY  IN  THE  REGIONS  OF 
HEAT  AND  DARKNESS,  FROM  WHICH  HE  IS 
EXTRICATED  BY  DANCING  A  HORNPIPE — 
FRIGHTENS  HIS  DELIVERERS,  AND  RETURNS 
ON  SHORE. 

I  WAS  once  in  great  danger  of  being  losl; 
in  a  most  singular  manner  in  the  Medi- 
terranean :  I  was  bathing  in  that  pleasanlt 
sea  near  Marseilles  one  summer's  after* 
noon,  when  I  discovered  a  very  large  fish, 
with  his  jaws  quite  extended,  approaching 
me  with  the  greatest  velocity  ;  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost,  nor  could  I  possibly 
avoid  him.  I  immediately  reduced  myself 
to  as  small  a  size  as  possible,  by  closing, 
my  feet  and  placing  my  hands  also  near 
my  sides,  in  which  position  I  passed  di- 
rectly between  his  jaws,  and  into  his  sto- 
mach, where  I  remained  some  time  in 
total  darkness,  and  comfortably  warm,  as 
you  may  imagine  ;  at  last  it  occurred  to 
me  that  by  giving  him  pain  he  would  be 
glad  to  get  rid  of  me  :  as  I  had  plenty  of 
room,  I  played  my  pranks,  such  as  tum- 
bling, hop,  step  and  jump,  etc.,  but  nothing 
seemed  to  disturb  him  so  much  as  the 
quick  motion  of  my  feet  in  attempting  to 
dance  a  hornpipe ;  soon  after  I  began  he 
put  me  out  by  sudden  fits  and  starts :  I 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


persevered ;  at  last  he  roared  horribly, 
and  stood  up  almost  perpendicularly  in 
the  water,  with  his  head  and  shoulders 
exposed,  by  which  he  was  discovered  by 
the  people  on  board  an  Italian  trader, 
then  sailing  by,  who  harpooned  him  in  a 
few  minutes.  As  soon  as  he  was  brought 
on  board  I  heard  the  crew  consulting  how 
they  should  cut  him  up,  so  as  to  preserve 
the  greatest  quantity  of  oil.  As  I  under- 
stood Italian,  I  was  in  most  dreadful  ap- 
prehensions lest  their  weapons  employed 
in  this  business  should  destroy  me  also  ; 
therefore  I  stood  as  near  the  centre  as  pos- 
sible, for  there  was  room  enough  for  a 
dozen  men  in  this  creature's  stomach,  and 
I  naturally  imagined  they  would  begin 
with  the  extremities :  however,  my  fears 
were  soon  dispersed,  for  they  began  by 
opening  the  bottom  of  the  belly.  As  soon 
as  I  perceived  a  glimmering  of  light  I 
called  out  lustily  to  be  released  from  a 
situation  in  which  I  was  now  almost  suf- 
focated. It  is  impossible  for  me  to  do 
justice  to  the  degree  and  kind  of  aston- 
ishment which  sat  upon  every  counte- 
nance at  hearing  a  human  voice  issue  from 
a  fish,  but  more  so  at  seeing  a  naked  man 
walk  upright  out  of  his  body ;  in  short, 
gentlemen,  I  told  them  the  whole  story, 
as  I  have  done  you,  whilst  amazement 
struck  them  dumb. 

After  taking  some  refreshment,  and 
jumping  into  the  sea  to  cleanse  myself,  I 
swam  to  my  clothes,  which  lay  where  I 
had  left  them  on  the  shore.  As  near  as  I 
can  calculate,  I  was  near  four  hours  and 
a  half  confined  in  the  stomach  of  this 
animal. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ADVENTURES  IN  TURKEY,  AND  UPON  THE 
RIVER  NILE— SEES  A  BALLOON  OVER  CON- 
STANTINOPLE ;  SHOOTS  AT,  AND  BRINGS  IT 
DOWN;  FINDS  A  FRENCH  EXPERIMENTAL 
PHILOSOPHER  SUSPENDED  FROM  IT— GOES 
ON  AN  EMBASSY  TO  GRAND  CAIRO,  AND 
RETURNS  UPON  THE  NILE,  WHERE  HE  IS 
THROWN  INTO  AN  UNEXPECTED  SITUATION, 
AND  DETAINED  SIX  WEEKS. 

WHEN  I  was  in  the  service  of  the  Turks 
I  frequently  amused  myself  in  a  pleasure- 
barge  on  the  Marmora,  which  commands 
a  view  of  the  whole  city  of  Constantino- 
ple, including  the  Grand  Seignior's  Se- 


raglio. One  morning,  as  I  was  admir- 
ing the  beauty  and  serenity  of  the  sky,  I 
observed  a  globular  substance  in  the  air, 
which  appeared  to  be  about  the  size  of  a 
twelve-inch  globe,  with  somewhat  sus- 
pended from  it.  I  immediately  took  uj> 
my  largest  and  longest  barrel  fowling* 
piece,  which  I  never  travel  or  make  eveii 
an  excursion  without,  if  I  can  help  it ;  I 
charged  with  a  ball,  and  fired  at  the  globe, 
but  to  no  purpose,  the  object  being  at 
too  great  a  distance.  I  then  put  in  a  dou- 
ble quantity  of  powder,  and  five  or  six 
balls  :  this  second  attempt  succeeded  ;  all 
the  balls  took  effect,  and  tore  one  side 
open,  and  brought  it  down.  Judge  my 
surprise  when  a  most  elegant  gilt  car, 
with  a  man  in  it,  and  part  of  a  sheep, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  roasted,  fell 
within  two  yards  of  me ;  when  my  aston- 
ishment had  in  some  degree  subsided,  I 
ordered  my  people  to  row  close  to  thia 
strange  aerial  traveller. 

I  took  him  on  board  my  barge  (he  waa 
a  native  of  France  :)he  was  much  indis- 
posed from  his  sudden  fall  into  the  sea. 
and  incapable  of  speaking ;  after  some 
time,  however,  he  recovered  and  gave  the 
following  account  of  himself,  viz.  :— 
"  About  seven  or  eight  days  since,  I  can- 
not tell  which,  for  I  have  lost  my  reckon- 
ing, having  been  most  of  the  time  where 
the  sun  never  sets,  I  ascended  from  the 
Land's  End  in  Cornwall,  in  the  island  of 
Great  Britain,  in  the  car  from  which  I 
have  been  just  taken,  suspended  from  a 
very  large  balloon,  and  took  a  sheep  with 
me,  to  try  atmospheric  experiments  upon : 
unfortunately,  the  wind  changed  within 
ten  minutes  after  my  ascent,  and  instead 
of  driving  towards  Exeter,  where  I  in- 
tended to  land,  I  was  driven  towards  the 
sea,  over  which  I  suppose  I  have  continued 
ever  since,  but  much  too  high  to  make  ob- 
servations. 

"  The  calls  of  hunger  were  so  pressing, 
that  the  intended  experiments  upon  heat 
and  respiration  gave  way  to  them.  I  was 
obliged,  on  the  third  day,  to  kill  the  sheep 
for  food ;  and  being  at  that  time  infinitely 
above  the  moon,  and  for  upwards  of  six- 
teen hours  after  so  very  near  to  the  sun 
that  it  scorched  my  eyebrows,  I  placed 
the  carcass,  taking  care  to  skin  it  first,  in 
that  part  of  the  car  where  the  sun  had 
sufficient  power,  or,  in  other  words,  where 
the  balloon  did  not  shade  it  from  the  sun, 
by  which  method  it  was  well  roasted  in 


206 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCH AUSEN. 


about  two  hours.  This  has  been  my  food 
ever  since." 

Here  he  paused,  and  seemed  lost  in  view- 
ing the  objects  about  him. 

When  I  told  him  the  buildings  before 
us  were  the  Grand  Seignior's  Seraglio  at 
Constantinople,  he  seemed  exceedingly 
affected,  as  he  had  supposed  himself  in  a 
very  different  situation.  "The  cause," 
added  he,  "  of  my  long  flight,  was  owing 
to  the  failure  of  a  string  which  was  fixed 
to  a  valve  in  the  balloon,  intended  to  let 
out  the  inflammable  air ;  and  if  it  had  not 
been  fired  at,  and  rent  in  the  manner  be- 
fore mentioned,  I  might,  like  Mahomet, 
have  been  suspended  between  heaven  and 
earth  till  doomsday." 

The  Grand  Seignior,  to  whom  I  was  in- 
troduced by  the  Imperial,  Russian  and 
French  ambassadors,  employed  me  to  ne- 
gotiate a  matter  of  great  importance  at 
Grand  Cairo,  and  which  was  of  such  a 
nature  that  it  must  ever  remain  a  secret. 

I  went  there  in  great  state  by  land; 
where,  having  completed  the  business,  I 
dismissed  almost  all  my  attendants,  and 
returned  like  a  private  gentleman :  the 
weather  was  delightful,  and  that  famous 
river  the  Nile  was  beautiful  beyond  all 
description ;  in  short,  I  was  tempted  to 
hire  a  barge  to  descend  by  water  to  Alex- 
andria. On  the  third  day  of  my  voyage 
the  river  began  to  rise  most  amazingly 
(you  have  all  heard,  I  presume,  of  the  an- 
nual overflowing  of  the  Nile),  and  on  the 
next  day  it  spread  the  whole  country  for 
many  leagues  on  each  side !  On  the  fifth, 
at  sunrise,  my  barge  became  entangled 
with  what  I  at  first  took  for  shrubs, — but 
as'the  light  became  stronger  I  found  my- 
self surrounded  by  almonds,  which  were 
perfectly  ripe,  and  in  the  highest  perfec- 
tion. Upon  plumbing  with  a  line,  my 
people  found  we  were  at  least  sixty  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  unable  to  advance 
or  retreat. 

At  about  eight  or  nine  o'clock,  as  near 
as  I  could  judge  by  the  altitude  of  the  sun, 
the  wind  rose  suddenly  and  canted  our 
barge  one  side ;  here  she  filled,  and  I  saw 
no  more  of  her  for  some  time.  Fortu- 
nately we  all  saved  ourselves  (six  men 
and  two  boys)  by  clinging  to  the  tree,  the 
boughs  of  which  were  equal  to  our  weight, 
though  not  to  that  of  the  barge  ;  in  this 
situation  we  continued  six  weeks  and 
three  days,  living  upon  the  almonds;  and 
I  need  not  inform  you  we  had  plenty  of 


water.  On  the  forty-second  day  of  oui 
distress  the  water  fell  as  rapidly  as  it  had 
risen,  and  on  the  forty-sixth  we  were  able 
to  venture  down  upon  terra  firma.  Our 
barge  was  the  first  pleasing  object  we  saw, 
about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  spot 
where  she  sunk.  After  drying  everything 
that  was  useful  by  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
and  loading  ourselves  with  necessaries 
from  the  stores  on  board,  we  set  out  to  re- 
cover our  lost  ground,  and  found,  by  the 
nearest  calculation,  we  had  been  carried 
over  garden-walls,  and  a  variety  ofinclos- 
ures,  above  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 
In  four  days,  after  a  very  tiresome  jour- 
ney on  foot,  with  thin  shoes,  we  reached 
the  river,  which  was  now  confined  to  its 
banks,  related  our  adventures  to  a  boy, 
who  kindly  accommodated  all  our  wants, 
and  sent  us  forward  in  a  barge  of  his  own. 
In  six  days  more  we  arrived  at  Alexan- 
dria, where  we  took  shipping  for  Constan- 
tinople. I  was  received  kindly  by  the 
Grand  Seignior,  and  had  the  honor  of 
seeing  the  seraglio,  to  which  his  highness 
introduced  me  himself. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAYS  A  VISIT  DURING  THE  SIEGE  OF  GIBRAL- 
TAR TO  HIS  OLD  FRIEND  GENERAL  ELLIOT 
— SINKS  A  SPANISH  MAN-OF-WAR— WAKES 
AN  OLD  WOMAN  ON  THE  AFRICAN  COAST — 
DESTROYS  ALL  THE  ENEMY'S  CANNON  ; 
FRIGHTENS  THE  COUNT  D'ARTOIS,  AND 
SENDS  HIM  TO  PARIS — SAVES  THE  LIVES  OF 
TWO  ENGLISH  SPIES  WITH  THE  IDENTICAL 
SLING  THAT  KILLED  GOLIATH  ;  AND  RAISES 
THE  SIEGE. 

DURING  the  late  siege  of  Gibraltar,  I 
went  with  a  provision  fleet,  under  Lord 
Rodney's  command,  to  see  my  old  friend 
General  Elliot,  who  has,  by  his  distin- 
guished defence  of  that  place,  acquired 
laurels  that  can  never  fade.  After  the 
usual  joy  which  generally  attends  the 
meeting  of  old  friends  had  subsided,  I  went 
to  examine  the  state  of  the  garrison,  and 
view  the  operations  of  the  enemy,  for 
which  purpose  the  general  accompanied 
me.  I  had  brought  a  most  excellent  re- 
fracting telescope  with  me  from  London, 
purchased  of  Dollond,  by  the  help  or 
which  I  found  the  enemy  were  going  to 
discharge  a  thirty-six  pounder  at  the  spot 
where  we  stood.  I  told  the  general  what 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


207 


they  were  about ;  he  looked  through  the 
glass  also,  and  found  my  conjectures  right. 
1  immediately,  by  his  permission,  ordered 
a  forty-eight  pounder  to  be  brought  from 
a  neighboring  battery,  which  I  placed 
with  so  much  exactness  (having  long 
•tudied  the  art  of  gunnery)  that  I  was  sure 
of  my  mark. 

I  continued  watching  the  enemy  till  I 
saw  the  match  placed  at  the  touch-hole 
of  their  piece;  at  that  very  instant  I  gave 
the  signal  for  our  gun  to  be  fired  also. 

About  midway  between  the  two  pieces 
of  cannon  the  balls  struck  each  other 
with  amazing  force,  and  the  effect  was  as- 
tonishing !  The  enemy's  ball  recoiled 
back  with  such  violence  as  to  kill  the  man 
who  had  discharged  it,  by  carrying  his 
head  fairly  off,  with  sixteen  others  which 
it  met  with  in  its  progress  to  the  Barbary 
coast,  where  its  force,  after  passing 
through  three  masts  of  vessels  that  then 
lay  in  a  line  behind  each  other  in  the 
harbor,  was  so  much  spent,  that  it  only 
broke  its  way  through  the  roof  of  a  poor 
laborer's  hut,  about  two  hundred  yards 
inland,  and  destroyed  a  few  teeth  an  old 
woman  had  left,  who  lay  asleep  on  her 
back  with  her  mouth  open.  The  ball 
lodged  in  her  throat.  Her  husband  soon 
after  came  home  and  endeavored  to  ex- 
tract it ;  but  finding  that  impracticable, 
by  the  assistance  of  a  rammer  he  forced 
it  into  her  stomach.  Our  ball  did  excel- 
lent service ;  for  it  not  only  repelled  the 
other  in  the  mariner  just  described,  but, 
proceeding  as  I  intended  it  should,  it  dis- 
mounted the  very  piece  of  cannon  that 
had  just  been  employed  against  us,  and 
forced  it  into  the  hold  of  the  ship,  where 
it  fell  with  so  much  force  as  to  break  its 
way  through  the  bottom.  The  ship  im- 
mediately filled  and  sank,  with  above  a 
thousand  Spanish  sailors  on  board,  be- 
sides a  considerable  number  of  soldiers. 
This,  to  be  sure,  was  a  most  extraordinary 
exploit ;  I  will  not,  however,  take  the 
whole  merit  to  myself;  my  judgment 
was  the  principal  engine,  but  chance 
assisted  me  a  little ;  for  I  afterwards 
found  that  the  man  who  charged  our 
forty-eight  pounder  put  in,  by  mistake  a 
double  quantity  of  powder,  else  we  could 
never  have  succeeded  so  much  beyond 
all  expectation,  especially  in  repelling 
the  enemy's  ball. 

General  Elliot  would  have  given  me  a 
commission  for  this  singular  piece  of  ser- 


vice ;  but  I  declined  everything,  except 
his  thanks,  which  I  received  at  a  crowded 
table  of  officers  at  supper  on  the  evening 
of  that  very  day. 

As  I  am  very  partial  to  the  English, 
who  are  beyond  all  doubt  a  brave  people, 
I  determined  not  to  take  my  leave  of  the 
garrison  till  I  had  rendered  them  another 
piece  of  service,  and  in  about  three  weeks 
an  opportunity  presented  itself.  I  dressed 
myself  in  the  habit  of  a  Popish  priest, 
and  at  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning 
stole  out  of  the  garrison,  passed  the 
enemy's  lines,  and  arrived  in  the  middle 
of  their  camp,  where  I  entered  the  tent  in 
which  the  Prince  d'Artois  was,  with  the 
commander-in-chief,  and  several  other 
officers,  in  deep  council,  concerting  a  plan 
to  storm  the  garrison  next  morning.  My 
disguise  was  my  protection ;  they  suffered 
me  to  continue  there,  hearing  everything 
that  passed,  till  they  went  to  their  several 
beds.  When  I  found  the  whole  camp, 
and  even  the  sentinels,  were  wrapped  up 
in  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  I  began  my 
work,  which  was  that  of  dismounting  all 
their  cannon  (above  three  hundred  pieces) 
from  forty-eight  to  twenty-four  pounders, 
and  throwing  them  three  leagues  into  the 
sea.  Having  no  assistance,  I  found  this 
the  hardest  task  I  ever  undertook,  except 
swimming  to  the  opposite  shore  with  the  fa- 
mous Turkish  piece  of  ordnance,  described 
by  Baron  de  Tott,  in  his  "  Memoirs,"  which 
I  shall  hereafter  mention.  I  then  piled 
all  the  carriages  together  in  the  centre  of 
the  camp,  which,  to  prevent  the  noise  of 
the  wheels  being  heard,  I  carried  in  pairs 
under  my  arms ;  and  a  noble  appearance 
they  made,  as  high  at  least  as  the  rock  of 
Gibraltar.  I  then  lighted  a  match  by 
striking  a  flint  stone,  situated  twenty  feet 
from  the  ground  (in  an  old  wall  built  by 
the  Moors  when  they  invaded  Spain), 
with  the  breech  of  an  iron  eight-and- 
forty  pounder,  and  so  set  fire  to  the  whole 
pile.  I  forgot  to  inform  you  that  I  threw 
all  their  ammunition  wagons  upon  the 
top. 

Before  I  applied  the  lighted  match  1 
had  laid  the  combustibles  at  the  bottom 
so  judiciously,  that  the  whole  was  in  a 
blaze  in  a  moment.  To  prevent  suspi- 
cion I  was  one  of  the  first  to  express  my 
surprise.  The  whole  camp  was,  as  you 
may  imagine,  petrified  with  astonishment : 
the  general  conclusion  was,  that  their 
sentinels  had  been  bribed,  and  that  seven, 


208 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


or  eight  regiments  of  the  garrison  had 
been  employed  in  this  horrid  destruction 
of  their  artillery.  Mr.  Drinkwater,  in 
his  account  of  this  famous  siege,  mentions 
the  enemy  sustaining  a  great  loss  by  a  fire 
which  happened  in  their  camp,  but  never 
knew  the  cause;  how  should  he?  as  I 
never  divulged  it  before  (though  I  alone 
saved  Gibraltar  by  this  night's  business) 
not  even  to  General  Elliot.  The  Count 
d'Artois  and  all  his  attendants  ran  away 
in  their  fright,  and  never  stopped  on  the 
road  till  they  reached  Paris,  which  they 
did  in  about  a  fortnight;  this  dreadful 
conflagration  had  such  an  effect  upon 
them  that  they  were  incapable  of  taking 
the  least  refreshment  for  three  months 
after,  but  chameleon-like,  lived  upon  the 
air. 

[If  any  gentleman  will  say  he  doubts 
the  truth  of  this  story,  I  will  fine  him  a 
gallon  of  brandy  and  make  him  drink  it 
at  one  draught.] 

About  two  months  after  I  had  done  the 
besieged  this  service,  one  morning,  as  I 
sat  at  breakfast  with  General  Elliot,  a 
shell,  (for  I  had  not  time  to  destroy  their 
mortars  as  well  as  their  cannon)  entered 
the  apartment  we  were  sitting  in ;  it 
lodged  upon  our  table ;  the  general,  as 
most  men  would  do,  quitted  the  room  di- 
rectly ;  but  I  took  it  up  before  it  burst, 
and  carried  it  to  the  top  of  the  rock,  when 
looking  over  the  enemy's  camp,  on  an 
eminence  near  the  sea-coast  I  observed  a 
considerable  number  of  people,  but  could 
not,  with  my  naked  eye,  discover  how 
they  were  employed.  I  had  recourse 
again  to  my  telescope,  when  I  found  that 
two  of  our  officers,  one  a  general,  the 
other  a  colonel,  with  whom  I  had  spent 
the  preceding  evening,  and  who  went 
out  into  the  enemy's  camp  about  mid- 
night as  spies,  were  taken,  and  then  were 
actually  going  to  be  executed  on  the  gibbet. 
I  found  the  distance  too  great  to  throw  the 
shell  with  my  hand,  but  most  fortunately 
recollecting  that  I  had  the  very  sling  in 
my  pocket  which  assisted  David  in  slay- 
ing Goliath,  I  placed  the  shell  in  it,  and 
immediately  threw  it  in  the  midst  of 
them :  it  burst  as  it  fell,  and  destroyed 
all  present,  except  the  two  culprits,  who 
were  saved  by  being  suspended  so  high, 
for  they  were  just  turned  off;  however, 
one  uf  the  pieces  of  the  shell  flew  with 
wich  force  against  the  foot  of  the  gibbet, 
lliat  it  immediately  brought  it  down. 


Our  two  friends  no  sooner  felt  terra  firma, 
than  they  looked  about  for  the  cause  ; 
and  finding  their  guards,  executioner, 
and  all,  had  taken  it  in  their  heads  to 
die  first,  they  directly  extricated  each 
other  from  their  disgraceful  corda,  and 
then  ran  down  to  the  seashore,  seized  a 
Spanish  boat  with  two  men  in  it,  and 
made  them  row  to  one  of  our  ships,  which 
they  did  with  great  safety,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  after,  when  I  was  relating  to 
General  Elliot  how  I  had  acted,  they  both 
took  us  by  the  hand,  and  after  mutual 
congratulations  we  retired  to  spend  the 
day  with  festivity. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AN  INTERESTING  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BARON'S 
ANCESTORS — A  QUARREL  RELATIVE  TO  THE 
SPOT  WHERE  NOAH  BUILT  HIS  ARK— THE 
HISTORY  OF  THE  SLING,  AND  ITS  PROPER- 
TIES— A  FAVORITE  POET  INTRODUCEDUPON 
NO  VERY  REPUTABLE  OCCASION — QUEEN 
ELIZABETH'S  ABSTINENCE — THE  BARON'S 
FATHER  CROSSES  TROM  ENGLAND  TO  HOL. 
LAND  UPON  A  MARINE  HORSE,  WHICH  HB 
SELLS  FOR  SEVEN  HUNDRED  DUCATS. 

You  wish  (I  can  see  by  your  counte- 
nances) I  would  inform  you  how  I  became 
possessed  of  such  a  treasure  as  the 
sling  just  mentioned.  (Here  facts  must 
be  held  sacred.)  Thus  then  it  was :  I 
am  a  descendant  of  the  wife  of  Uriah 
whom  we  all  know  David  was  inti- 
mate with ;  she  had  several  children  by 
his  majesty ;  they  quarreled  once  upon  a 
matter  of  the  first  consequence,  viz  :  the 
spot  where  Noah's  ark  was  built,  and 
where  it  rested  after  the  flood.  A  sepa- 
ration consequently  ensued.  She  had 
often  heard  him  speak  of  this  sling  as  his 
most  valuable  treasure :  this  she  stole  the 
night  they  parted;  it  was  missed  before 
she  got  out  of  his  dominions,  and  she  was 
pursued  by  no  less  than  six  of  the  king's 
body-guards:  however,  by  using  it  her- 
self she  hit  the  first  of  them  (for  one  was 
more  active  in  the  pursuit  than  the  rest) 
where  David  killed  Goliath,  and  killed 
him  on  the  spot.  His  companions  were 
so  alarmed  at  his  fall  that  they  retired, 
and  left  Uriah's  wife  to  pursue  her  jour- 
ney. She  took  with  her,  I  should  have 
informed  you  before,  her  favorite  son  by 
this  connection,  to  whom  she  bequeathed 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCH AUSEN. 


209 


the  sling ;  and  thus  it  has,  without  inter- 
ruption, descended  from  father  to  son  till 
it  came  into  my  possession.  One  of  its 
possessors,  my  great-great-great-gran  d- 
father,  who  lived  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago,  was  upon  a  visit  to  Eng- 
land, and  became  intimate  with  a  poet 
who  was  a  great  deer-stealer ;  I  think  his 
name  was  Shakspeare :  he  frequently 
borrowed  this  sling,  and  with  it  killed  so 
much  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  venison,  that 
he  narrowly  escaped  the  fate  of  my  two 
friends  at  Gibraltar.  Poor  Shakspeare 
was  imprisoned,  and  my  ancestor  obtained 
his  freedom  in  a  very  singular  manner. 
Queen  Elizabeth  was  then  on  the  throne, 
but  grown  so  indolent  that  every  trifling 
matter  was  a  trouble  to  her ;  dressing,  un- 
dressing, eating,  drinking  and  some  other 
offices  which  shall  be  nameless,  made  life 
a  burden  to  her ;  all  these  things  he  ena- 
bled her  to  do  without,  or  by  a  deputy  ! 
and  what  do  you  think  was  the  only  return 
she  could  prevail  upon  him  to  accept  for 
such  eminent  services?  setting  Shaks- 
peare at  liberty  1  Such  was  his  affection 
for  that  famous  writer,  that  he  would  have 
shortened  his  own  days  to  add  to  the 
number  of  his  friend's. 

I  do  not  hear  that  any  of  the  queen's 
subjects,  particularly  the  beef -eaters,  as 
they  are  vulgarly  called  to  this  day, 
however  they  might  be  struck  with  the 
novelty  at  the  time,  much  approved  of  her 
living  totally  without  food.  She  did  not 
survive  the  practice  herself  above  seven 
years  and  a  half. 

My  father,  who  was  the  immediate  pos- 
sessor of  this  sling  before  me,  told  me  the 
following  anecdote : 

He  was  walking  by  the  seashore  at 
Harwich  with  this  sling  in  his  pocket; 
before  his  paces  had  covered  a  mile  he 
was  attacked  by  a  fierce  animal  called  a 
seahorse,  open-mouthed,  who  ran  at  him 
with  great  fury ;  he  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  took  out  his  sling,  retreated  back 
about  a  hundred  yards,  stooped  for  a 
couple  of  pebbles,  of  which  there  were 
plenty  under  his  feet,  and  slung  them 
both  so  dexterously  at  the  animal,  that 
each  stone  put  out  an  eye,  and  lodged  in 
the  cavities  which  their  removal  had  oc- 
casioned. He  now  got  upon  his  back, 
and  drove  him  into  the  sea ;  for  the  mo- 
ment he  lost  his  sight  he  lost  also  his  fe- 
rocity and  became  as  tame  as  possible :  the 
sling  was  placed  as  a  bridle  in  his  mouth ; 
VOL.  ii.— w.  H. 


he  was  guided  with  the  greatest  facility 
across  the  ocean,  and  in  less  than  three 
hours  they  both  arrived  on  the  opposite 
shore,  which  is  about  thirty  leagues.  The 
master  of  the  THREE  CUPS,  at  Helvoet- 
sluys,  in  Holland,  purchased  this  marine 
horse,  to  make  an  exhibition  of,  for  seven 
hundred  ducats,  which  was  upwards  of 
three  hundred  pounds,  and  the  next  day 
my  father  paid  his  passage  back  in  the 
packet  to  Harwich. 

[My  father  made  several  curious  obser- 
vations in  this  passage,  which  I  will  re- 
late hereafter.] 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  FROLIC ;  ITS  CONSEQUENCES — WINDSOB 
CASTLE — ST.  PAUL'S — COLLEGE  OF  PHYSI- 
CIANS— UNDERTAKERS,  SEXTONS,  ETC.,  AL- 
MOST RUINED — INDUSTRY  OF  THE  APOTHE- 
CARIES. 

THIS  famous  sling  makes  the  possessor 
equal  to  any  task  he  is  desirous  of  per- 
forming. 

I  made  a  balloon  of  such  extensive  di- 
mensions, that  an  account  of  the  silk  it 
contained  would  exceed  all  credibility ; 
every  mercer's  shop  and  weaver's  stock 
in  London,  Westminster,  and  Spital- 
fields  contributed  to  it :  with  this  balloon 
and  my  sling  I  played  many  tricks,  such 
as  taking  one  house  from  its  station  and 
placing  another  in  its  stead,  without  dis- 
turbing the  inhabitants,  who  were  gener- 
ally asleep,  or  too  much  employed  to  ob- 
serve the  peregrinations  of  their  habita- 
tions. 

When  the  sentinel  at  Windsor  Cas- 
tle heard  St.  Paul's  clock  strike  thir- 
teen, it  was  through  my  dexterity ;  I 
brought  the  buildings  nearly  together 
that  night,  by  placing  the  Castle  in  St. 
George's  Fields,  and  carried  it  back  again 
before  daylight,  without  waking  any  of 
the  inhabitants ;  notwithstanding  these 
exploits,  I  should  have  kept  my  balloon 
and  its  properties  a  secret,  if  Montgol- 
fier  had  not  made  the  art  of  flying  so 
public. 

On  the  30th  of  September,  when  the 
College  of  Physicians  chose  .their  annual 
officers,  and  dined  sumptuously  together, 
I  filled  my  balloon,  brought  it  over  the 
dome  of  their  building,  clapped  the  sling 


210 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  ON  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


round  the  golden  ball  at  the  top,  fasten- 
ing the  other  end  of  it  to  the  balloon,  and 
immediately  ascended  with  the  whole 
college  to  an  immense  height,  where  I 
kept  them  upwards  of  three  months.  You 
will  naturally  inquire  what  they  did  for 
food  such  a  length  of  time  ?  To  this  I 
answer,  Had  I  kept  them  suspended  twice 
the  time,  they  would  have  experienced  no 
inconvenience  on  that  account,  so  amply, 
or  rather  extravagantly,  had  they  spread 
their  table  for  that  day's  feasting. 

Though  this  was  meant  as  an  innocent 
frolic,  it  was  productive  of  much  mischief 
to  several  respectable  characters  amongst 
the  clergy,  undertakers,  sextons,  and 

f  rave-diggers :  they  were,  it  must  be  ac- 
nowledged,  sufferers;  for  it  is  a  well- 
known  fact,  that  during  the  three  months 
the  college  was  suspended  in  the  air,  and 
therefore  incapable  of  attending  their  pa- 
tients, no  deaths  happened,  except  a  few 
Avho  fell  before  the  scythe  of  Father 
Time,  and  some  melancholy  objects  who, 
perhaps  to  avoid  some  trifling  inconve- 
nience here,  laid  the  hands  of  violence 
upon  themselves,  and  plunged  into  misery 
infinitely  greater  than  that  which  they 
hoped  by  such  a  rash  step  to  avoid,  with- 
out a  moment's  consideration. 

If  the  apothecaries  had  not  been  very 
active  during  the  above  time,  half  the  un- 
dertakers in  all  probability  would  have 
been  bankrupts. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
A  TRIP  TO  THE    NORTH. 

THE  BAEON  SAILS  WITH  CAPTAIN  PHIPPS, 
ATTACKS  TWO  LARGE  BEARS,  AND  HAS  A 
VERY  NARROW  ESCAPE — GAINS  THE  CONFI- 
DENCE OF  THESE  ANIMALS,  AND  THEN  DE- 
STROYS THOUSANDS  OF  THEM  ;  LOADS  THE 
SHIP  WITH  THEIR  HAMS  AND  SKINS  ; 
MAKES  PRESENTS  OF  THE  FORMER,  AND 
OBTAINS  A  GENERAL  INVITATION  TO  ALL 
CITY  FEASTS — A  DISPUTE  BETWEEN  THE 
CAPTAIN  AND  THE  BARON,  IN  WHICH, 
FROM  MOTIVES  OF  POLITENESS,  THE  CAP- 
TAIN IS  SUFFERED  TO  GAIN  HIS  POINT — 
THE  BARON  DECLINES  THE  HONOR  OF  A 
THRONE,  AND  AN  EMPRESS  INTO  THE  BAR- 
GAIN. 

WE  all  remember  Captain  Phipps'  (now 
Lord  Mulgrave)  last  voyage  of  discovery 
to  the  north.  I  accompanied  the  captain, 


not  as  an  officer,  but  a  private  friend. 
When  we  arrived  in  a  high  northern  lat- 
itude I  was  viewing  the  objects  around 
me  with  the  telescope  which  I  introduced 
X)  your  notice  in  my  Gibraltar  adven- 
tures. I  thought  I  saw  two  large  white 
sears  in  violent  action  upon  a  body  of  ice 
considerably  above  the  masts,  and  about 
tialf  a  league  distance.  I  immediately 
;ook  my  carbine,  slung  it  across  my 
shoulder,  and  ascended  the  ice.  When  I 
arrived  at  the  top,  the  unevenness  of  the 
surface  made  my  approach  to  those  ani- 
mals troublesome  and  hazardous  beyond 
expression:  sometimes  hideous  cavities 
opposed  me,  which  I  was  obliged  to  spring 
over;  in  other  parts  the  surface  was  as 
smooth  as  a  mirror,  and  I  was  continually 
falling :  as  I  approached  near  enough  to 
reach  them,  I  found  they  were  only  at 
play.  I  immediately  began  to  calculate 
the  value  of  their  skins,  for  they  were 
each  as  large  as  a  well-fed  ox :  unfortu- 
nately, the  very  instant  I  was  presenting 
my  carbine  my  right  foot  slipped,  I  fell 
upon  my  back,  and  the  violence  of  the 
blow  deprived  me  totally  of  my  senses  for 
nearly  half  an  hour ;  however,  when  I  re- 
covered, judge  of  my  surprise  at  finding 
one  of  these  large  animals  I  have  been  just 
describing  had  turned  me  upon  my  face, 
and  was  just  laying  hold  of  the  waistband 
of  my  breeches,  which  were  then  new  and 
made  of  leather  :  he  was  certainly  going 
to  carry  me  feet  foremost,  God  knows 
where,  when  I  took  this  knife  (showing  a 
large  clasp-knife)  out  of  my  side  pocket, 
made  a  chop  at  one  of  his  hind  feet,  and 
cut  off  three  of  his  toes  ;  he  immediately 
let  me  drop  and  roared  most  horribly.  I 
took  up  my  carbine  and  fired  at  him  as  he 
ran  off;  he  fell  directly.  The  noise  of 
the  piece  roused  several  thousands  of 
these  white  bears,  who  were  asleep  upon 
the  ice  within  half  a  mile  of  me ;  tney 
came  immediately  to  the  spot.  There 
was  no  time  to  be  lost.  A  most  fortunate 
thought  arrived  in  my  pericranium  just 
at  that  instant.  I  took  off  the  skin  and 
head  of  the  dead  bear  in  half  the  time 
that  some  people  would  be  in  skinning  a 
rabbit,  and  wrapped  myself  in  it,  placing 
my  own  head  directly  under  Bruin's;  the 
whole  herd  came  round  me  immediately, 
and  my  apprehensions  threw  me  into  a 
most  piteous  situation  to  be  sure:  how- 
ever, my  scheme  turned  out  a  most  ad- 
mirable one  for  my  own  safety.  They  aU 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


211 


*ame  smelling,  and  evidently  took  me  for 
i.  brother  Bruin ;  I  wanted  nothing  but 
bulk  to  make  an  excellent  counterfeit : 
however,  I  saw  several  cubs  amongst  them 
not  much  larger  than  myself.  After  they 
had  all  smelt  me,  and  the  body  of  their 
deceased  companion,  whose  skin  was  now 
become  my  protector,  we  seemed  very  so- 
ciable, and  I  found  I  could  mimic  all  their 
actions  tolerably  well ;  but  at  growling, 
roaring  and  hugging  they  were  quite  my 
masters.  I  began  now  to  think  how  I 
might  tnrn  the  general  confidence  which  I 
had  created  amongst  these  animals  to  my 
advantage. 

I  had  heard  an  old  army  surgeon  say  a 
wound  in  the  spine  was  instant  death.  I 
now  determined  to  try  the  experiment, 
and  had  again  recourse  to  my  knife,  with 
which  I  struck  the  largest  in  the  back  of 
the  neck,  near  the  shoulders,  but  under 
great  apprehensions,  not  doubting  but  the 
creature  would,  if  he  survived  the  stab, 
tear  me  to  pieces.  However,  I  was  re- 
markably fortunate,  for  he  fell  dead  at  my 
feet  without  making  the  least  noise.  I 
was  now  resolved  to  demolish  them  every 
one  in  the  same  manner,  which  I  accom- 
plished without  the  least  difficulty ;  for, 
although  they  saw  their  companions  fall, 
they  had  no  suspicion  of  either  the  cause 
or  the  effect.  When  they  all  lay  dead  be- 
fore me,  I  felt  myself  a  second  Samson, 
having  slain  my  thousands. 

To  make  short  work  of  the  story,  I  went 
back  to  the  ship,  and  borrowed  three  parts 
of  the  crew  to  assist  me  in  skinning  them, 
and  carrying  the  hams  on  board,  which 
we  did  in  a  few  hours,  andloaded  the  ship 
with  them.  As  to  the  other  parts  of  the 
animals,  they  were  thrown  into  the  sea, 
though  I  doubt  not  but  the  whole  would 
eat  as  well  as  the  legs,  were  they  properly 
cured. 

As  soon  as  we  returned  I  sent  some  of 
the  hams,  in  the  captain's  name,  to  the 
Lords  of  the  Admiralty,  others  to  the 
Lords  of  the  Treasury,  some  to  the  Lord 
Mayor  and  Corporation  of  London,  a  few 
to  each  of  the  trading  companies,  and  the 
remainder  to  my  particular  friends,  from 
all  of  whom  I  received  warm  thanks ;  but 
from  the  city  I  was  honored  with  sub- 
stantial notice,  viz.,  an  invitation  to  dine 
at  Guildhall  annually  on  Lord  Mayor's 
day. 

The  bear-skins  I  sent  to  the  Empress  of 
Russia,  to  clothe  her  majesty  and  her  court 


in  the  winter,  for  which  she  wrote  me  a  let- 
ter of  thanks  with  her  own  hand,  and  sent  it 
by  an  ambassador  extraordinary,  inviting 
me  to  share  the  honors  of  her  bed  and  crown 
— but  as  I  never  was  ambitious  of  royal  dig- 
nity, I  declined  her  majesty's  favor  in  the 
politest  terms. 

The  same  ambassador  had  orders  to 
wait  and  bring  my  answer  to  her  ma- 
jesty personally,  upon  which  business  he 
was  absent  about  three  months :  her  ma- 
jesty's reply  convinced  me  of  the  strength 
of  her  affections  and  the  dignity  of 
her  mind ;  her  late  indisposition  was 
entirely  owing  (as  she,  kind  creature !  was 
pleased  to  express  herself  in  a  late  con- 
versation with  the  Prince  Dolgoroucki)  to 
my  cruelty.  What  the  sex  see  in  me  I 
cannot  conceive,  but  the  empress  is  not  the 
only  female  sovereign  who  has  offered  me 
her  hand. 

Some  people  have  very  illiberally  re- 
ported that  Captain  Phipps  did  not  pro- 
ceed as  far  as  he  might  have  done  upon 
that  expedition.  Here  it  becomes  my  duty 
to  acquit  him ;  our  ship  was  in  a  very 
proper  trim  till  I  loaded  it  with  such  an 
immense  quantity  of  bear-skins  and  hams, 
after  which  it  would  have  been  madness 
to  have  attempted  to  proceed  further, 
as  we  were  now  scarcely  able  to  com- 
bat a  brisk  gale,  much  less  those  moun- 
tains of  ice  which  lay  in  the  higher  lati- 
tudes. 

The  captain  has  since  often  expressed  a 
dissatisfaction  that  he  had  no  share  in  the 
honors  of  that  day,  which  he  emphatically 
called  bear-skin  day.  He  has  also  been 
very  desirous  of  knowing  by  what  art  I 
destroyed  so  many  thousands,  without  fa- 
tigue or  danger  to  myself;  indeed,  he  is 
so  ambitious  of  dividing  the  glory  with 
me,  that  we  have  actually  quarreled  about 
it,  and  we  are  not  now  upon  speaking 
terms.  He  boldly  asserts  I  had  no  merit 
in  deceiving  the  bears,  because  I  was  cov- 
ered with  one  of  their  skins ;  nay,  he  de- 
clares there  is  not,  in  his  opinion,  in  Eu- 
rope, so  complete  a  bear  naturally  as  him- 
self among  the  human  species. 

He  is  now  a  noble  peer,  and  I  am  too 
well  acquainted  with  good  manners  to 
dispute  so  delicate  a  point  with  his  lord- 
ship. 


212 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

OUR  BARON  EXCELS  BARON  TOTT  BEYOND 
ALL  COMPARISON,  YET  FAILS  IN  PART  OP 
HIS  ATTEMPT — GETS  INTO  DISGRACE  WITH 
THE  GRAND  SEIGNIOR,  WHO  ORDERS  HIS 
HEAD  TO  BE  CUT  OFF — ESCAPES,  AND  GETS 
ON  BOARD  A  VESSEL,  IN  WHICH  HE  IS  CAR- 
RIED TO  VENICE — BARON  TOTT'S  ORIGIN, 
WITH  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THAT  GREAT 

MAN'S     PARENTS POPE     GANGANELLI'S 

AMOUR — HIS    HOLINESS    FOND    OF    SHELL- 
FISH. 

BARON  DE  TOTT,  in  his  "  Memoirs," 
makes  as  great  a  parade  of  a  single  act  as 
many  travellers  whose  whole  lives  have 
been  spent  in  seeing  the  different  parts  of 
the  globe;  for  my  part,  if  I  had  been 
blown  from  Europe  to  Asia  from  the 
mouth  of  a  cannon,  I  should  have  boasted 
less  of  it  afterwards  than  he  has  done  of 
only  firing  off  a  Turkish  piece  of  ord- 
nance. What  he  says  of  this  wonderful 
gun,  as  near  as  my  memory  will  serve  me, 
is  this  :  "  The  Turks  had  placed  below 
the  castle,  and  near  the  city,  on  the  banks 
of  Simois,  a  celebrated  river,  an  enormous 
piece  of  ordnance,  cast  in  brass,  which 
would  carry  a  marble  ball  of  eleven  hun- 
dred pounds  weight.  I  was  inclined," 
says  Tott,  "  to  fire  it,  but  I  was  willing 
first  to  judge  of  its  effect;  the  crowd 
about  me  trembled  at  this  proposal,  as 
they  asserted  it  would  overthrow  not  only 
the  castle,  but  the  city  also.  At  length, 
their  fears  in  part  subsided,  and  I  was 
permitted  to  discharge  it.  It  required  not 
less  than  three  hundred  and  thirty  pounds 
weight  of  powder,  and  the  ball  weighed, 
as  before  mentioned,  eleven  hundred 
weight.  When  the  engineer  brought  the 
priming,  the  crowds  who  were  about  me 
retreated  back  as  fast  as  they  could  :  nay, 
it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  I  per- 
suaded the  Pacha,  who  came  on  purpose, 
there  was  no  danger :  even  the  engineer 
who  was  to  discharge  it  by  my  direction, 
was  considerably  alarmed.  I  took  my 
stand  on  some  stone-work  behind  the  can- 
non, gave  the  signal,  and  felt  a  shock  like 
that  of  an  earthquake  !  At  the  distance 
of  three  hundred  fathom  the  ball  burst 
into  three  pieces ;  the  fragments  crossed 
the  strait,  rebounded  on  the  opposite 
mountain,  and  left  the  surface  of  the  wa- 
ter all  in  a  foam  through  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  channel." 

This,  gentlemen,  is,  as  near  as  I  can 
recollect,   Baron   Tott's  account  of  the 


largest  cannon  in  the  known  world. 
Now,  when  I  was  there  not  long  since, 
the  anecdote  of  Tott's  firing  this  tremen- 
dous piece  was  mentioned  as  a  proof  of 
that  gentleman's  extraordinary  courage. 

I  was  determined  not  to  be  outdone  by 
a  Frenchman,  therefore  took  this  very 
piece  upon  my  shoulder,  and,  after  bal- 
ancing it  properly,  jumped  into  the  sea 
with  it,  and  swam  to  the  opposite  shore, 
from  whence  I  unfortunately  attempted 
to  throw  it  back  into  its  former  place.  I 
say  unfortunately,  for  it  slipped  a  little  in 
my  hand  just  as  I  was  about  to  discharge 
it,  and  in  consequence  of  that  it  fell  into 
the  middle  of  the  channel,  where  it  now 
lies,  without  a  prospect  of  ever  recovering 
it,  and  notwithstanding  the  high  favor  I 
was  in  with  the  Grand  Seignior,  as  before 
mentioned,  this  cruel  Turk,  as  soon  as  he 
heard  of  the  loss  of  his  famous  piece  of 
ordnance,  issued  an  order  to  cut  off  my 
head.  I  was  immediately  informed  of  it 
by  one  of  the  Sultanas,  with  whom  I  was 
become  a  great  favorite,  and  she  secreted 
me  in  her  apartment,  while  the  officer 
charged  with  my  execution  was,  with  his 
assistants,  in  search  of  me. 

That  very  night  I  made  my  escape  on 
board  a  vessel  bound  to  Venice,  which 
was  then  weighing  anchor  to  proceed  on 
her  voyage. 

The  hist  story,  gentlemen,  I  am  not 
fond  of  mentioning,  as  I  miscarried  in  the 
attempt,  and  was  very  near  losing  my  life 
into  the  bargain  ;  however,  as  it  contains 
no  impeachrnentof  my  honor,  I  would  not 
withhold  it  from  you. 

Now,  gentlemen,  you  all  know  me,  and 
can  have  no  doubt  of  my  veracity.  I  will 
entertain  you  with  the  origin  of  this  same 
swaggering,  bouncing  Tott. 

His  reputed  father  was  a  native  of  Berne, 
in  Switzerland ;  his  profession  was  that  of 
a  surveyor  of  the  streets,  lanes,  and  alleys, 
vulgarly  called  a  scavenger.  His  mother 
was  a  native  of  the  mountains  of  Savoy, 
and  had  a  most  beautiful  large  wen  on 
her  neck,  common  to  both  sexes  in  that 
part  of  the  world ;  she  left  her  parents 
when  young,  and  sought  her  fortune  in 
the  same  city  which  gave  his  father  birth  ; 
she  maintained  herself  while  single  by 
acts  of  kindness  to  our  sex,  for  she  never 
was  known  to  refuse  them  any  favor  they 
asked,  provided  they  did  but  pay  her  some 
compliment  beforehand.  This  lovely 
couple  met  by  accident  in  the  street,  in 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


21? 


consequence  of  their  being  both  intoxi- 
cated, for  by  reeling  to  one  centre  they 
threw  each  other  down :  this  created  mu- 
tual abuse,  in  which  they  were  complete 
adepte ;  they  were  both  carried  to  the 
watch-house,  and  afterwards  to  the  house 
of  correction;  they  soon  saw  the  folly  of 
quarreling,  made  it  up,  became  fond  of 
eaoh  other,  and  married  ;  but  madam  re- 
turning to  her  old  tricks,  his  father,  who 
had  high  notions  of  honor,  soon  separated 
himself  from  her;  she  then  joined  a 
family  who  strolled  about  with  a  pup- 
pet-show. 

In  time  she  arrived  at  Home,  where  she 
kept  an  oyster-stand.  You  have  all  heard, 
no  doubt,  of  Pope  Ganganelli,  commonly 
called  Clement  XIV. :  he  was  remarkably 
fond  of  oysters.  One  Good  Friday,  as  he 
was  passing  through  this  famous  city  in 
state,  to  assist  at  high  mass  at  St.  Peter's 
Church,  he  saw  this  woman's  oysters, 
(which  were  remarkably  fine  and  fresh) ; 
he  could  not  proceed  without  tasting  them. 
There  were  about  five  thousand  people  in 
his  train ;  he  ordered  them  all  to  stop, 
and  sent  word  to  the  church  he  could  not 
attend  mass  till  next  day  ;  then  alighting 
from  his  horse  (for  the  Pope  always  rides 
on  horseback  upon  these  occasions),  he 
went  into  her  stall,  and  ate  every  oyster 
she  had  there,  and  afterwards  retired  into 
the  cellar  where  she  had  a  few  more.  This 
subterraneous  apartment  was  her  kitchen, 
parlor,  and  bed-chamber.  He  liked  his 
situation  so  much  that  he  discharged  all 
his  attendants,  and  to  make  short  of  the 
story,  His  Holiness  passed  the  whole  night 
there!  Before  they  parted  he  gave  her 
absolution,  not  only  for  every  sin  she 
had,  but  all  she  might  hereafter  com- 
mit. 

[Now,  gentlemen,  I  have  his  mother's 
word  for  it  (and  her  honor  cannot  be 
doubted),  that  Baron  Tott  is  the  fruit  of 
that  amour.  When  Tott  was  born,  his 
mother  applied  to  His  Holiness,  as  the 
lather  of  her  child ;  he  immediately  placed 
him  under  proper  people,  and  as  he  grew 
up  gave  him  a  gentleman's  education, 
had  him  taught  the  use  of  arms,  procured 
him  promotion  in  France,  and  a  title, 
and  when  he  died  he  left  him  a  good 
estate.] 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A  FURTHER  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  JOURNEY  FROW 
HARWICH  TO  HELVOETSLUYS — DESCRIP- 
TION OF  A  NUMBER  OF  MARINE  OBJECTS 
NEVER  MENTIONED  BY  ANY  TRAVELLER  BE- 
FORE— ROCKS  SEEN  IN  THIS  PASSAGE  EQUAL 
THE  ALPS  IN  MAGNITUDE;  LOBSTERS, 
CRABS,  ETC.,  OF  AN  EXTRAORDINARY  MAG- 
NITUDE— A  WOMAN'S  LIFE  SAVED — THE 

CAUSE  OF  HER  FALLING  INTO  THE  SEA — 
DR.  HAWES'S  DIRECTIONS  FOLLOWED  WITH 
SUCCESS. 

I  OMITTED  several  very  material  parts 
in  rny  father's  journey  across  the  English 
Channel  to  Holland,  which,  that  they 
may  not  be  totally  lost,  I  will  now  faith- 
fully give  you  in  his  own  words,  as  I 
heard  him  relate  them  to  his  friends  sev- 
eral times. 

"  On  my  arrival,"  says  my  father,  "  at 
Helvoetsluys,  I  was  observed  to  breathe 
with  some  difficulty  ;  upon  the  inhabitants 
inquiring  into  the  cause,  I  informed  them 
that  the  animal  upon  whose  back  I  rode 
from  Harwich  across  to  their  shore  did  not 
swim !  Such  is  their  peculiar  form  and 
disposition,  that  they  cannot  float  or  move 
upon  the  surface  of  the  water;  he  ran 
with  incredible  swiftness  upon  the  sands 
from  shore  to  shore,  driving  fish  in  mil- 
lions before  him,  many  of  which  were 
quite  different  from  any  I  had  yet  seen, 
carrying  their  heads  at  the  extremity  of 
their  tails.  I  crossed,"  continued  he, 
"  one  prodigious  range  of  rocks,  equal  in 
height  to  the  Alps  (the  tops  or  highest 
part  of  these  marine  mountains  are  said 
to  be  upwards  of  one  hundred  fathoms 
below  the  surface  of  the  sea),  on  the  sides 
of  which  there  was  a  great  variety  of  tall, 
noble  trees,  loaded  with  marine  fruit,  such 
as  lobsters,  crabs,  oysters,  scollops,  mus- 
sels, cockles,  etc.,  etc. ;  some  of  which 
were  a  cart-load  singly !  and  none  less 
than  a  porter's !  All  those  which  are 
brought  on  shore  and  sold  in  our  markets 
are  of  an  inferior  dwarf  kind,  or,  properly, 
waterfalls,  i.  e.,  fruit  shook  off  the  branches 
of  the  tree  it  grows  upon  by  the  motion 
of  the  water,  as  those  in  our  gardens  are 
by  that  of  the  wind  !  The  lobster-trees 
appeared  the  richest,  but  the  crab  and 
oysters  were  the  tallest.  The  periwinkle 
is  a  kind  of  shrub ;  it  grows  at  the  foot  of 
the  oyster-tree,  and  twines  around  it  as 
the  ivy  does  the  oak.  I  observed  the  ef- 
fect of  several  accidents  by  shipwreck, 
etc.,  particularly  a  ship  that  had  been 


214 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


wrecked  by  striking  against  a  mountain 
or  rock,  the  top  of  which  lay  within  three 
fathoms  of  the  surface.  As  she  sunk  she 
fell  upon  her  side,  and  forced  a  very  large 
lobster-tree  out  of  its  place.  It  was  in  the 
spring,  when  the  lobsters  were  very  young, 
and  many  of  them  being  separated  by  the 
violence  of  the  shock,  they  fell  upon  a 
crab-tree  which  was  growing  below  them  ; 
they  have,  like  the  farina  of  plants,  united, 
and  produced  a  fish  resembling  both.  I 
endeavored  to  bring  one  with  me,  but  it 
was  too  cumbersome,  and  my  salt-water 
Pegasus  seemed  much  displeased  at  every 
attempt  to  stop  his  career  whilst  I  con- 
tinued on  his  back;  besides,  I  was  then, 
though  galloping  over  a  mountain  of 
rocks  that  lay  about  midway  the  passage, 
at  least  five  hundred  fathoms  below  the 
surface  of  the  sea,  and  began  to  find  the 
want  of  air  inconvenient,  therefore  I  had 
no  inclination  to  prolong  the  time.  Add 
to  this,  my  situation  was  in  other  respects 
very  unpleasant ;  I  met  many  large  fish, 
who  were,  if  I  could  judge  by  their  open 
mouths,  not  only  able,  but  really  wished 
to  devour  us ;  now,  as  my  Rosinante  was 
blind,  I  had  these  hungry  gentlemen's  at- 
tempts to  guard  against,  in  addition  to  my 
other  difficulties. 

"As  we  drew  near  the  Dutch  shore,  and 
the  body  of  water  over  our  heads  did  not 
exceed  twenty  fathoms,  I  thought  I  saw  a 
human  figure  in  a  female  dress  then  lying 
on  the  sand  before  me  with  some  signs  of 
life ;  when  I  came  close  I  perceived  her 
hand  move;  I  took  it  into  mine,  and 
brought  her  on  shore  as  a  corpse.  An 
apothecary  who  had  just  been  instructed 
by  Dr.  Hawes  (the  Baron's  father  must 
have  lived  very  lately  if  Dr.  Hawes  was 
his  preceptor),  of  London,  treated  her 
properly,  and  she  recovered.  She  was  the 
rib  of  a  man  who  commanded  a  vessel  be- 
longing to  Helvoetsluys.  He  was  just 
going  out  of  port  on  a  voyage,  when  she, 
earing  he  had  got  a  mistress  with  him, 
followed  him  in  an  open  boat.  As  soon  ! 
as  she  had  got  on  the  quarter-deck  she  j 
flew  at  her  husband,  and  attempted  to  ] 
strike  him  with  such  impetuosity,  that  he  j 
thought  it  most  prudent  to  slip  on  one  i 
side,  and  let  her  make  the  impression  of 
her  fingers  upon  the  waves  rather  than 
his  face :  he  was  not  much  out  in  his 
ideas  of  the  consequence  ;  for  meeting  no 
opposition,  she  went  directly  overboard, 
and  it  was  my  unfortunate  lot  to  lay  the 


foundation  for  bringing  this  happy  pair 
together  again. 

I  can  easily  conceive  what  execrations 
the  husband  loaded  me  with  when,  on  his 
return,  he  found  this  gentle  creature  wait- 
ing his  arrival,  and  learned  the  means  by 
which  she  came  into  the  world  again. 
However,  great  as  the  injury  is  which  I 
have  done  this  poor  devil,  I  hope  he  will 
die  in  charity  with  me,  as  my  motive  was 
good,  though  the  consequences  to  him  are, 
it  must  be  confessed,  horrible." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THIS  IS  A  VEKY  SHOBT  CHAPTER,  BUT  CON- 
TAINS A  FACT  FOR  WHICH  THE  BARON'S 
MEMORY  OUGHT  TO  BE  DEAR  TO  EVERY 
ENGLISHMAN,  ESPECIALLY  THOSE  WHO 
MAY  HEREAFTER  HAVE  THE  MISFORTUNE 
OF  BEING  MADE  PRISONERS  OF  WAR. 

ON  my  return  from  Gibraltar  I  travelled 
by  way  of  France  to  England.  Being  a 
foreigner,  this  was  not  attended  with  any 
inconvenience  to  me.  I  found,  in  the 
harbor  of  Calais,  a  ship  just  arrived  with 
a  number  of  English  sailors  as  prisoners 
of  war.  I  immediately  conceived  an  idea 
of  giving  these  brave  fellows  their  liberty, 
which  I  accomplished  as  follows :  After 
forming  a  pair  of  large  wings,  each  of 
them  forty  yards  long,  and  fourteen  wide, 
and  annexing  them  to  myself,  I  mounted 
at  break  of  day,  when  every  creature,  even 
the  watch  upon  deck,  was  fast  asleep.  As 
I  hovered  over  the  ship  I  fastened  three 
grappling  irons  to  the  tops  of  the  three 
masts  with  my  sling,  and  fairly  lifted  her 
several  yards  out  of  the  water,  and  then 
proceeded  across  to  Dover,  where  I  ar- 
rived in  half  an  hour  !  Having  no  further 
occasions  for  these  wings,  I  made  them  a 
present  to  the  Governor  of  Dover  Castle, 
where  they  are  now  exhibited  to  the 
curious. 

As  to  the  prisoners,  and  the  French- 
men who  guarded  them,  they  did  not 
awake  till  they  had  been  near  two  hours 
on  Dover  Pier.  The  moment  the  English 
understood  their  situation  they  changed 
places  with  their  guard,  and  took  back 
what  they  had  been  plundered  of,  but  no 
more,  for  they  were  too  generous  to  re- 
taliate and  plunder  them  in  return. 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


21.5 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TOYAGE  EASTWARD  —  THE  BARON  INTRO- 
DUCES A  FRIEND  WHO  NEVER  DECEIVED 
HIM  ;  WINS  A  HUNDRED  GUINEAS  BY  PIN- 
NING HIS  FAITH  UPON  THAT  FRIEND'S 
NOSE  —  GAME  STARTED  AT  SEA  —  SOME 
OTHER  CIRCUMSTANCES  WHICH  WILL,  IT  IS 
HOPED,  AFFORD  THE  READER  NO  SMALL 
DEGREE  OF  AMUSEMENT. 

IN  a  voyage  which  I  made  to  the  East 
Indies  with  Captain  Hamilton,  I  took  a 
favorite  pointer  with  me ;  he  was,  to  use 
a  common  phrase,  worth  his  weight  in 
gold,  for  he  never  deceived  me.  One  day 
when  we  were,  by  the  best  observations  we 
could  make,  at  least  three  hundred 
leagues  from  land,  my  dog  pointed ;  I  ob- 
served him  for  near  an  hour  with  astonish- 
ment, and  mentioned  the  circumstance  to 
the  captain  and  every  officer  on  board, 
asserting  that  we  must  be  near  land,  for 
my  dog  smelt  game.  This  occasioned  a 
general  laugh  ;  but  that  did  not  alter  in 
the  least  the  good  opinion  I  had  of  my 
dog.  After  much  conversation  pro  and 
con.  I  boldly  told  the  captain  I  placed 
more  confidence  in  Tray's  nose  than  I  did 
in  the  eyes  of  every  seaman  on  board,  and 
therefore  proposed  laying  the  sum  I  had 
agreed  to  pay  for  my  passage  (viz.,  one 
hundred  guineas)  that  we  should  find 
game  within  half  an  hour.  The  captain 
(a  good,  hearty  fellow)  laughed  again, 
desired  Mr.  Crowford,  the  surgeon,  who 
was  prepared,  to  feel  my  pulse ;  he  did  so, 
and  reported  me  in  perfect  health.  The 
following  dialogue  between  them  took 
place  ;  I  overheard  it,  though  spoken  low, 
and  at  some  distance : 

Captain. — His  brain  is  turned ;  I  can- 
not with  honor  accept  his  wager. 

Surgeon. — I  am  of  a  different  opinion ; 
lie  is  quite  sane,  and  depends  more  upon 
the  scent  of  his  dog  than  he  will  upon 
the  judgment  of  all  the  officers  on  board  ; 
he  will  certainly  lose,  and  he  richly 
merits  it. 

Captain. — Such  a  wager  cannot  be  fair 
on  my  side ;  however,  I'll  take  him  up,  if 
I  return  his  money  afterwards. 

During  the  above  conversation  Tray 
continued  in  the  same  situation,  and  con- 
firmed me  still  more  in  my  former  opinion. 
I  proposed  the  wager  a  second  time,  it 
was  then  accepted. 

Done!  and  done!  were  scarcely  said 
on  both  sides,  when  some  sailors  who 


were  fishing  in  the  long  boat,  which  was 
made  fast  to  the  stern  of  the  ship,  har- 
pooned an  exceeding  large  shark,  which 
they  brought  on  board  and  began  to  cut 
up  for  the  purpose  of  barrelling  the  oil, 
when,  behold,  they  found  no  less  than  six 
brace  of  live  partridges  in  this  animal's 
stomach  ! 

They  had  been  so  long  in  that  situation, 
that  one  of  the  hens  was  sitting  upon  four 
eggs,  and  a  fifth  was  hatching  when  the 
shark  was  opened  1 ! !  This  young  bird 
we  brought  up  by  placing  it  with  a  litter 
of  kittens  that  came  into  the  world  a  few 
minutes  before  !  The  old  cat  was  as  fond 
of  it  as  of  any  of  her  own  four-legged  pro- 
geny, and  made  herself  very  unhappy, 
when  it  flew  out  of  her  reach,  till  it  re- 
turned again.  As  to  the  other  partridges, 
there  were  four  hens  amongst  them  ;  one 
or  more  were,  during  the  voyage,  con- 
stantly sitting,  and  consequently  we  had 
plenty  of  game  at  the  captain's  table  ;  and 
in  gratitude  to  poor  Tray  (for  being  a 
means  of  winning  one  hundred  guineas) 
I  ordered  him  the  bones  daily,  and  some- 
times a  whole  bird. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  SECOND  VISIT  (BUT  AN  ACCIDENTAL  ONE) 
TO  THB  MOON — THE  'SHIP  DRIVEN  BY  A 
WHIRLWIND  A  THOUSAND  LEAGUES  ABOVE 
THE  SURFACE  OF  THE  WATER,  WHERE  A 
NEW  ATMOSPHERE  MEETS  THEM  AND  CAR- 
RIES THEM  INTO  A  CAPACIOUS  HARBOR  IN 
THE  MOON — A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  IN- 
HABITANTS, AND  THEIR  MANNER  OF  COM- 
ING INTO  THE  LUNARIAN  WORLD — ANI- 
MALS, CUSTOMS,  WEAPONS  OF  WAR,  WINE, 
VEGETABLES,  ETC. 

I  HAVE  already  informed  you  of  one 
trip  I  made  to  the  moon,  in  search  of  my 
silver  hatchet  ;  I  afterwards  made  an- 
other in  a  much  pleasanter  manner,  and 
staid  in  it  long  enough  to  take  notice  of 
several  things,  which  I  will  endeavor  to 
describe  as  accurately  as  my  memory  will 
permit. 

I  went  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  at  the 
request  of  a  distant  relation,  who  had  a 
strange  notion  that  there  were  people  to 
be  found  equal  in  magnitude  to  those  de- 
scribed by  Gulliver  in  the  empire  of 
Brobdingnag.  For  my  part  I  always 
treated  that  account  as  fabulous,  however, 


216 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


to  oblige  him,  for  he  had  made  me  his 
heir,  I  undertook  it,  and  sailed  for  the 
South  seas,  where  we  arrived  without 
meeting  with  anything  remarkable,  ex- 
cept some  flying  men  and  women  who 
were  playing  at  leap-frog,  and  dancing 
minuets  in  the  air. 

On  the  eighteenth  day  after  we  had 
passed  the  Island  of  Otaheite,  mentioned 
by  Captain  Cook  as  the  place  from 
whence  they  brought  Omai,  a  hurricane 
blew  our  ship  at  least  one  thousand  leagues 
above  the  surface  of  the  water,  and 
kept  it  at  that  height  till  a  fresh  gale 
arising  filled  the  sails  in  every  part,  and 
onwards  we  travelled  at  a  prodigious  rate ; 
thus  we  proceeded  above  the  clouds  for  six 
weeks.  At  last  we  discovered  a  great  land 
in  the  sky,  like  a  shining  island,  round 
and  bright,  where,  coming  into  a  con- 
venient harbor,  we  went  on  shore,  and 
soon  found  it  was  inhabited.  Below  us  we 
saw  another  earth,  containing  cities,  trees, 
mountains,  rivers,  seas,  etc.,  which  we 
conjectured  was  this  world  which  we  had 
left.  Here  we  saw  huge  figures  riding 
upon  vultures  of  a  prodigious  size,  and 
each  of  them  having  three  heads.  To 
form  some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  these 
birds,  I  must  inform  you  that  each  of  their 
wings  is  as  wide  and  six  times  the  length  of 
the  main  sheet  of  our  vessel,  which  was 
about  six  hundred  tons  burden.  Thus, 
instead  of  riding  upon  horses,  as  we  do  in 
this  world,  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon 
(for  we  now  found  we  were  in  Madam 
Luna)  fly  about  on  these  birds.  The  king, 
we  found,  was  engaged  in  a  war  with  the 
sun,  and  he  offered  me  a  commission,  but 
I  declined  the  honor  his  majesty  intended 
me.  Everything  in  this  world  is  of  ex- 
traordinary magnitude!  a  common  flea 
being  much  larger  than  one  of  our  sheep : 
in  making  war,  their  principal  weapons 
are  radishes,  which  are  used  as  darts : 
those  who  are  wounded  by  them  die  im- 
mediately. Their  shields  are  made  of 
mushrooms,  and  their  darts  (when  radish- 
es are  out  of  season)  of  the  tops  of  as- 
paragus. Some  of  the  natives  of  the  dog- 
star  are  to  be  seen  here ;  commerce  tempts 
them  to  ramble ;  their  faces  are  like  large 
mastiffs',  with  their  eyes  near  the  lower 
end  or  tip  of  their  noses:  they  have  no 
eyelids,  but  cover  their  eyes  with  the  end 
of  their  tongues  when  they  go  to  sleep ; 
they  are  generally  twenty  feet  high.  As 
to  the  natives  of  the  moon,  none  of  them 


are  less  in  stature  than  thirty-six  feet: 
they  are  not  called  the  human  species, 
but  the  cooking  animals,  for  they  all  dress 
their  food  by  fire,  as  we  do,  but  lose  no 
time  at  their  meals,  as  they  open  their 
left  side,  and  place  the  whole  quantity  at 
once  in  their  stomach,  then  shut  it  again 
till  the  same  day  in  the  next  month  ;  for 
they  never  indulge  themselves  with  food 
more  than  twelve  times  a  year,  or  once  a 
month.  All  but  gluttons  and  epicures 
must  prefer  this  method  to  ours. 

There  is  but  one  sex  either  of  the  cook- 
ing or  any  other  animals  in  the  moon ; 
they  are  all  produced  from  trees  of  various 
sizes  and  foliage ;  that  which  produ«es 
the  cooking  animal,  or  human  species,  is 
much  more  beautiful  than  any  of  the 
others ;  it  has  large,  straight  boughs  and 
flesh-colored  leaves,  and  the  fruit  it  pro- 
duces are  nuts  or  pods,  with  hard  shells  at 
least  two  yards  long ;  when  they  become 
ripe,  which  is  known  from  their  chang- 
ing color,  they  are  gathered  with  great 
care,  and  laid  by  as  long  as  they  think 
proper:  when  they  choose  to  animate  the 
seed  of  these  nuts,  they  throw  them  into 
a  large  cauldron  of  boiling  water,  which 
opens  the  shells  in  a  few  hours,  and  out 
jumps  the  creature. 

Nature  forms  their  minds  for  different 
pursuits  before  they  come  into  the  world ; 
from  one  shell  comes  forth  a  warrior,  from 
another  a  philosopher,  from  a  third  a 
divine,  from  a  fourth  a  lawyer,  from  a 
fifth  a  farmer,  from  a  sixth  a  clown,  etc., 
etc.,  and  each  of  them  immediately  begins 
to  perfect  themselves,  by  practicing  what 
they  before  knew  only  in  theory. 

When  they  grow  old  they  do  not  die, 
but  turn  into  air,  and  dissolve  like  smoke ! 
As  for  their  drink,  they  need  none ;  the 
only  evacuations  they  have  are  insensible, 
and  by  their  breath.  They  have  but  one 
finger  upon  each  hand,  with  which  they 
perform  everything  in  as  perfect  a  manner 
as  we  do  who  have  four  besides  the  thumb. 
Their  heads  are  placed  under  their  right 
arm,  and  when  they  are  going  to  travel, 
or  about  any  violent  exercise,  they  gener- 
ally leave  them  at  home,  for  they  can  con- 
sult them  at  any  distance ;  this  is  a  very 
common  practice ;  and  when  those  of  rank 
or  quality  among  the  Lunarians  have  an 
inclination  to  see  what's  going  forward 
among  ^the  common  people,  they  stay  at 
home,  i.  e.  the  body  stays  at  home,  and 
sends  the  head  only,  which  is  suffered  to 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTUKES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


217 


be  present  incog.,  and  return  at  pleasure 
with  an  account  of  what  has  passed. 

The  stones  of  their  grapes  are  exactly 
like  hail ;  and  I  am  perfectly  satisfied 
that  when  a  storm  or  high  wind  in  the 
moon  shakes  their  vines,  and  breaks  the 
grapes  from  the  stalks,  the  stones  fall 
down  and  form  our  hail  showers.  I  would 
advice  those  who  are  of  my  opinion  to  save 
a  quantity  of  these  stones  when  it  hails  next 
and  make  Lunarian  wine.  It  is  common 
beverage  at  St.  Luke's.  Some  material 
circumstances  I  had  nearly  omitted.  They 
put  their  bellies  to  the  same  use  as  we  do 
a  sack,  and  throw  whatever  they  have 
occasion  for  into  it,  for  they  can  shut  and 
open  it  again  when  they  please,  as  they 
do  their  stomachs  ;  they  are  not  troubled 
with  bowels,  liver,  heart,  or  any  other  in- 
testines, neither  are  they  encumbered 
with  clothes,  nor  is  there  any  part  of  their 
bodies  unseemly  or  indecent  to  exhibit. 

Their  eyes  they  can  take  in  and  out  of 
their  places  when  they  please,  and  can  see 
as  well  with  them  in  their  hand  as  in  their 
head !  and  if  by  any  accident  they  lose 
and  damage  one,  they  can  borrow  or  pur- 
chase another,  and  see  as  clearly  with  it 
as  their  own.  Dealers  in  eyes  are  on  that 
account  very  numerous  in  most  parts  of 
the  moon,  and  in  this  article  alone  all  the 
inhabitants  are  whimsical :  sometimes 
green  and  sometimes  yellow  eyes  are  the 
fashion.  I  know  these  things  appear 
strange ;  but  if  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  can 
remain  on  any  person's  mind,  I  say,  let 
him  take  a  voyage  there  himself,  and  then 
he  will  know  I  am  a  traveller  of  veracity. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  BARON  CROSSES  THE  THAMES  WITHOUT 
THE  ASSISTANCE  OF  A  BRIDGE,  SHIP,  BOAT, 
BALLOON,  OR  EVEN  HIS  OWN  WILL  :  ROUSES 
HIMSELF  AFTER  A  LONG  NAP,  AND  DE- 
STROYS A  MONSTER  WHO  LIVED  UPON  THE 
DESTRUCTION  OF  OTHERS. 

MY  first  visit  to  England  was  about  the 
beginning  of  the  present  king's  reign.  I 
had  occasion  to  go  down  to  Wapping,  to 
see  some  goods  shipped,  which  I  was  send- 
ing to  some  friends  at  Hamburg ;  after 
that  business  was  over,  I  took  the  Town 
Wharf  in  my  way  back.  Here  I  found 
the  sun  very  powerful,  and  I  was  so  much 
fatigued  that  I  stepped  into  one  of  the 


cannon  to  compose  me,  where  I  fell  fast 
asleep.  This  was  about  noon  ;  it  was  the 
fourth  of  June ;  exactly  at  one  o'clock 
these  cannon  were  all  discharged  in 
memory  of  the  day.  They  had  been  all 
charged  that  morning,  and  having  no 
suspicion  of  my  situation,  I  was  shot  over 
the  houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river,  into  a  farmer's  yard,  between  Ber- 
mondsey  and  Deptford,  where  I  fell  upon 
a  large  hay-stack,  without  waking,  and 
continued  there  in  a  sound  sleep  till  hay 
became  so  extravagantly  dear  (which  was 
about  three  months  after),  that  the  farmer 
found  it  his  interest  to  send  his  whole 
stock  to  market :  the  stack  I  was  reposing 
upon  was  the  largest  in  the  yard,  contain- 
ing about  five  hundred  loads  ;  they  began 
to  cut  that  first.  I  woke  with  the  voices 
of  the  people  who  had  ascended  the  lad- 
ders to  begin  at  the  top,  and  got  up,  to- 
tally ignorant  of  my  situation  :  in  attempt- 
ing to  run  away  I  fell  upon  the  farmer  to 
whom  the  hay  belonged,  and  broke  his 
neck,  yet  received  no  injury  myself.  I 
afterwards  found,  to  my  great  consolation, 
that  this  fellow  was  a  most  detestable 
character,  always  keeping  the  produce  of 
his  grounds  for  extravagant  markets. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  BARON  SLIPS  THROUGH  THE  WORLD; 
AFTER  PAYING  A  VISIT  TO  MOUNT  ETNA 
HE  FINDS  HIMSELF  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEA; 
VISITS  VULCAN  IN  HIS  PASSAGE  ;  GETS  ON 
BOARD  A  DUTCHMAN  ;  ARRIVES  AT  AN  IS- 
LAND OF  CHEESE,  SURROUNDED  BY  A  SEA 
OF  MILK  ;  DESCRIBES  SOME  VERY  EXTRA- 
ORDINARY OBJECTS — LOSE  THEIR  COMPASS ; 
THEIR  SHIP  SLIPS  BETWEEN  THE  TEETH 
OF  A  FISH  UNKNOWN  IN  THIS  PART  OF  THE 
WORLD  ;  THEIR  DIFFICULTY  IN  ESCAPING 
FROM  THENCE  ;  ARRIVE  IN  THE  CASPIAN 
SEA — STARVES  A  BEAR  TO  DEATH — A  FEW 
WAISTCOAT  ANECDOTES — IN  THIS  CHAPTER, 
WHICH  IS  THE  LONGEST,  THE  BARON  MOB- 
ALIZES  UPON  THE  VIRTUE  OF  VERACITY. 

MR.  DRYBONES'S  "  Travels  to  Sicily," 
which  I  had  read  with  great  pleasure,  in- 
duced me  to  pay  a  visit  to  Mount  Etna ; 
my  voyage  to  this  place  was  not  attended 
with  any  circumstances  worth  relating. 
One  morning  early,  three  or  four  days 
after  my  arrival,  I  set  out  from  a  cottaga 
where  I  had  slept,  within  six  miles  of  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  determined  to  ex< 


218 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


plore  the  internal  parts,  if  I  perished  in 
the  attempt.  After  three  hours'  hard  labor 
I  found  myself  at  the  top ;  it  was  then, 
and  had  been  for  upwards  of  three  weeks, 
raging ;  its  appearance  in  this  state  has 
been  so  frequently  noticed  by  different 
travellers,  that  I  will  not  tire  you  with  de- 
scriptions of  objects  you  are  already 
acquainted  with.  I  walked  round  the 
edge  of  the  crater,  which  appeared  to  be 
fifty  times  at  least  as  capacious  as  the 
Devil's  Punch-Bowl  near  Petersfield,  on 
the  Portsmouth  road,  but  not  so  broad  at 
the  bottom,  as  in  that  part  it  resembles 
the  contracted  part  of  a  funnel  more  than 
a  punch-bowl.  At  last,  having  made  up 
my  mind,  in  I  sprang  feet  foremost ;  I 
soon  found  myself  in  a  warm  berth,  and 
my  body  bruised  and  burnt  in  various 
parts  by  the  red-hot  cinders,  which,  by 
their  violent  ascent,  opposed  my  descent  ; 
however,  my  weight  soon  brought  me  to 
the  bottom,  where  I  found  myself  in  the 
midst  of  noise  and  clamor,  mixed  with  the 
most  horrid  imprecations  ;  after  recover- 
ing my  senses,  and  feeling  a  reduction  of 
my  pain,  I  began  to  look  about  me.  Guess, 
gentlemen,  my  astonishment,  when  I 
found  myself  in  the  company  of  Vulcan 
and  his  Cyclops,  who  had  been  quarrel- 
ling, for  the  three  weeks  before  mentioned, 
about  the  observation  of  good  order  and 
due  subordination,  and  which  had  occa- 
sioned such  alarms  for  that  space  of  time 
in  the  world  above.  However,  my  arrival 
restored  peace  to  the  whole  society,  and 
Vulcan  himself  did  me  the  honor  of  ap- 
plying plasters  to  my  wounds,  which 
healed  them  immediately  ;  he  also  placed 
refreshments  before  me,  particularly  nec- 
tar, and  other  rich  wines,  such  as  the  gods 
and  goddesses  only  aspire  to.  After  this 
repast  was  over,  Vulcan  ordered  Venus 
to  show  me  every  indulgence  which  my 
situation  required.  To  describe  the  apart- 
ment, and  the  couch  on  which  I  reposed, 
is  totally  impossible,  therefore  I  will  not 
attempt  it ;  let  it  suffice  to  say,  it  exceeds 
the  power  of  language  to  do  it  justice,  or 
speak  of  that  kind-hearted  goddess  in  any 
terms  equal  to  her  merit. 

Vulcan  gave  me  a  very  concise  account 
of  Mount  Etna :  he  said  it  was  nothing 
more  than  an  accumulation  of  ashes 
thrown  from  the  forge ;  that  he  was  fre- 
quently obliged  to  chastise  his  people,  at 
whom,  in  his  passion,  he  made  it  a  prac- 
tice to  throw  red-hot  coals  at  home,  which 


they  often  parried  with  great  dexterity, 
and  then  threw  them  up  into  the  world 
to  place  them  out  of  his  reach,  for  they 
never  attempted  to  assault  him  in  return 
by  throwing  them  back  again.  "Our 
quarrels,"  added  he, "  last  sometimes  three 
or  four  months,  and  these  appearances  of 
coals  or  cinders  in  the  world  are  what  I 
find  you  mortals  call  eruptions."  Mount 
Vesuvius,  he  assured  me,  was  another  of 
his  shops,  to  which  he  had  a  passage  three 
hundred  and  fifty  leagues  under  the  bed 
of  the  sea,  where  similar  quarrels  pro- 
duced similar  eruptions.  I  should  have 
continued  here  as  an  humble  attendant 
upon  Madam  Venus,  but  some  busy  tat- 
tlers, who  delight  in  mischief,  whispered 
a  tale  in  Vulcan's  ear,  which  roused  in 
him  a  fit  of  jealousy  not  to  be  appeased. 
Without  the  least  previous  notice,  he  took 
me  one  morning  under  his  arm,  as  I  wa,s 
waiting  upon  Venus,  agreeable  to  custom, 
and  carried  me  to  an  apartment  I  had 
never  before  seen,  in  which  there  was,  to 
all  appearance,  a  well  with  a  wide  mouth : 
over  this  he  held  me  at  arm's  length,  and 
saying,  "  Ungrateful  mortal,  return  to  the 
world  from  whence  you  came"  without 
giving  me  the  least  opportunity  of  reply, 
dropped  me  in  the  centre.  I  found  myself 
descending  with  an  increasing  rapidity, 
till  the  horror  of  my  mind  deprived  me  of 
all  reflection.  I  suppose  I  fell  into  a 
trance,  from  which  I  was  suddenly  roused 
by  plunging  into  a  large  body  of  water 
illuminated  by  the  rays  of  the  sun  !  I 

I  could,  from  my  infancy,  swim  well, 
and  play  tricks  in  the  water.  I  now  found 
myself  in  paradise,  considering  the  hor- 
rors of  mind  I  had  just  been  released 
from.  After  looking  about  me  some  time, 
I  could  discover  nothing  but  an  expanse 
of  sea,  extending  beyond  the  eye  in  every 
direction  :  I  also  found  it  very  cold,  a  dif- 
ferent climate  from  Master  Vulcan's  shop. 
At  last  I  observed  at  some  distance  a  body 
of  amazing  magnitude,  like  a  huge  rock, 
approaching  me ;  1  soon  discovered  it  to 
be  a  piece  of  floating  ice ;  I  swam  round 
it  till  I  found  a  place  where  I  could 
ascend  to  the  top,  which  I  did,  but  not 
without  some  difficulty.  Still  I  was  out  of 
sight  of  land,  and  despair  returned  with 
double  force ;  however,  before  night  came 
on  I  saw  a  sail,  which  we  approached 
very  fast ;  when  it  was  within  a  very  small 
distance  I  hailed  them  in  German  ;  they 
answered  in  Dutch.  I  then  flung  myself 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


219 


into  the  sea,  and  they  threw  out  a  rope, 
by  which  I  was  taken  on  board,  I  now 
inquired  where  we  were,  and  was  informed, 
in  the  great  Southern  Ocean  ;  this  opened 
a  discovery  which  removed  all  my  doubts 
and  difficulties.  It  was  now  evident  that 
I  had  passed  from  Mount  Etna  through 
the  centre  of  the  earth  to  the  South  Seas : 
this,  gentlemen,  was  a  much  shorter  cut 
than  going  round  the  world,  and  which  no 
man  has  accomplished,  or  ever  attempted, 
but  myself:  however,  the  next  time  I  per- 
form it  I  will  be  much  more  particular  in 
my  observations. 

I  took  some  refreshment,  and  went  to 
rest.  The  Dutch  are  a  very  rude  sort  of 
people  ;  I  related  the  Etna  passage  to  the 
officers,  exactly  as  I  have  done  to  you, 
and  some  of  them,  particularly  the  Cap- 
tain, seemed  by  his  grimace  and  half- 
sentences  to  doubt  my  veracity  ;  however, 
as  he  had  kindly  taken  me  on  board  his 
vessel,  and  was  then  in  the  very  act  of 
administering  to  my  necessities,  I  pocketed 
the  affront. 

I  now  in  my  turn  began  to  inquire 
where  they  were  bound  ?  To  which  they 
answered  they  were  in  search  of  new  dis- 
coveries, "  and  if"  said  they,  "  your  story 
is  true  a  new  passage  is  really  discovered, 
and  we  shall  not  return  disappointed"  We 
were  now  exactly  in  Captain  Cook's  first 
track,  and  arrived  the  next  morning  in 
Botany  Bay.  This  place  I  would  by  no 
means  recommend  to  the  English  govern- 
ment as  a  receptacle  for  felons,  or  place 
of  punishment;  it  should  rather  be  the 
reward  of  merit,  nature  having  most 
bountifully  bestowed  her  best  gifts  upon 
it. 

We  staid  here  but  three  days ;  the 
fourth  after  our  departure  a  most  dread- 
ful storm  arose,  which  in  a  few  hours  de- 
stroyed all  our  sails,  splintered  our  bow- 
sprit, and  brought  down  our  topmast ;  it 
fell  directly  upon  the  box  that  inclosed 
onr  compass,  which,  with  the  compass, 
was  broken  to  pieces.  Every  one  who  has 
been  at  sea  knows  the  consequences  of 
such  a  misfortune :  we  now  were  at  a  loss 
where  to  steer.  At  length  the  storm 
abated,  which  was  followed  by  a  steady, 
brisk  gale,  that  carried  us  at  least  forty 
knots  an  hour  for  six  months !  [we  should 
suppose  the  Baron  has  made  a  little  mis- 
take, and  substituted  months  for  days] 
when  we  began  to  observe  an  amazing 
change  in  everything  about  us :  our  spirits 


became  light,  our  noses  were  regaled  with 
the  most  aromatic  effluvia  imaginable: 
the  sea  had  also  changed  its  complexion, 
and  from  green  became  white  1 1  Soon 
after  these  wonderful  alterations  we  saw 
land,  and  not  at  any  great  distance  an  in- 
let, which  we  sailed  up  near  sixty  leagues, 
and  found  it  wide  and  deep,  flowing  with 
milk  of  the  most  delicious  taste.  Here 
we  landed,  and  soon  found  it  was  an  island 
consisting  of  one  large  cheese:  we  dis- 
covered this  by  one  of  the  company  faint- 
ing away  as  soon  as  we  landed  :  this  man 
always  had  an  aversion  to  cheese  ;  when 
he  recovered,  he  desired  the  cheese  to  be 
taken  from  under  his  feet :  upon  examina- 
tion we  found  him  perfectly  right,  for  the 
whole  island,  as  before  observed,  was 
nothing  but  a  cheese  of  immense  magni- 
tude! Upon  this  the  inhabitants,  who 
are  amazingly  numerous,  principally  sus- 
tain themselves,  and  it  grows  every  night 
in  proportion  as  it  is  consumed  in  the  day. 
Here  seemed  to  be  plenty  of  vines,  with 
bunches  of  large  grapes,  which,  upon  be- 
ing pressed,  yielded  nothing  but  milk. 
We  saw  the  inhabitants  running  races 
upon  the  surface  of  the  milk  :  they  were 
upright,  comely  figures,  nine  feet  high, 
have  three  legs,  and  but  one  arm ;  upon 
the  whole,  their  form  was  graceful,  and 
when  they  quarrel,  they  exercise  a  straight 
horn,  which  grows  in  adults  from  the  cen- 
tre of  their  foreheads,  with  great  adroit- 
ness ;  they  did  not  sink  at  all,  but  ran  and 
walked  upon  the  surface  of  the  milk,  as 
we  do  upon  a  bowling-green. 

Upon  this  island  of  cheese  grows  great 
plenty  of  corn,  the  ears  of  which  produce 
loaves  of  bread,  ready  made,  of  a  round 
form  like  mushrooms.  We  discovered,  in 
our  rambles  over  this  cheese,  seventeen 
other  rivers  of  milk,  and  ten  of  wine. 

After  thirty-eight  days'  journey  we  ar- 
rived on  the  opposite  side  to  that  on 
which  we  landed :  here  we  found  some 
blue  mold,  as  cheese-eaters  call  it,  from 
whence  springs  all  kinds  of  rich  fruit ;  in- 
stead of  breeding  mites  it  produced  peaches, 
nectarines,  apricots,  and  a  thousand  deli- 
cious fruits  which  we  are  not  acquainted 
with.  In  these  trees,  which  are  of  an 
amazing  size,  were  plenty  of  birds'  nests  ; 
amongst  others  was  a  kingfisher's  of  pro- 
digious magnitude ;  it  was  at  least  twice 
the  circumference  of  the  dome  of  St  Paul's 
Church  in  London.  Upon  inspection, 
this  nest  was  made  of  huge  trees  curiously 


220 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BAIIOX  MUNCHAUSEN. 


joined  together ;  there  were,  let  me  see 
(for  I  make  it  a  rule  always  to  speak  within 
compass),  there  were  upwards  of  five  hun- 
dred eggs  in  this  nest,  and  each  of  them 
wa^  as  large  as  four  common  hogsheads, 
or  eight  barrels,  and  we  could  not  only 
see,  but  hear  the  young  ones  chirping 
within.  Having,  with  great  fatigue,  cut 
open  one  of  these  eggs,  we  let  out  a  young 
one  unfeathered,  considerably  larger  than 
twenty  full  grown  vultures.  Just  as  we 
had  given  this  youngster  his  liberty,  the 
old  kingfisher  lighted,  and  seizing  our 
captain,  who  had  been  active  in  breaking 
the  egg,  in  one  of  her  claws,  flew  with  him 
above  a  mile  high,  and  then  let  him 
drop  into  the  sea,  but  not  till  she  had 
beaten  all  his  teeth  out  of  his  mouth  with 
her  wings. 

Dutchmen  generally  swim  well:  he  soon 
joined  us,  and  we  retreated  to  our  ship. 
On  our  return  we  took  a  different  route, 
and  observed  many  strange  objects.  We 
shot  two  wild  oxen,  each  with  one  horn, 
also  like  the  inhabitants,  except  that  it 
sprouted  from  between  the  eyes  of  these 
animals;  we  were  afterwards  concerned 
at  having  destroyed  them,  as  we  found  by 
inquiry,  they  tamed  these  creatures,  and 
used  them  as  we  do  horses,  to  ride  upon 
and  draw  their  carriages  ;  their  flesh,  we 
were  informed,  is  excellent,  but  useless 
where  people  live  upon  cheese  and  milk. 
When  we  had  reached  within  two  days' 
journey  of  the  ship,  we  observed  three 
men  hanging  to  a  tall  tree  by  their  heels: 
upon  inquiring  the  cause  of  their  punish- 
ment, I  found  they  had  all  been  travellers, 
and  upon  their  return  home  had  deceived 
their  friends  by  describing  places  they 
never  saw,  and  relating  things  that  never 
happened  :  this  gave  me  no  concern,  as  I 
have  ever  confined  myself  to  facts. 

As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  ship  we 
unmoored,  and  set  sail  from  this  extraor- 
dinary country,  when,  to  our  astonish- 
ment, all  the  trees  upon  shore,  of  which 
there  were  a  great  number  very  tall  and 
large,  paid  their  respects  to  us  twice, 
bowing  to  exact  time,  and  immediately 
recovered  their  former  posture,  which  was 
quite  erect. 

By  what  we  could  learn  of  this  CHEESE, 
it  was  considerably  larger  than  the  con- 
tinent of  all  Europe ! 

After  sailing  three  months  we  knew  not 
where,  being  still  without  compass,  we 
arrived  in  a  sea  which  appeared  to  be  al- 


most black ;  upon  tasting  it  we  found  it 
most  excellent  wine,  and  had  great  diffi- 
culty to  keep  the  sailors  from  getting 
drunk  with  it :  however,  in  a  few  hours 
we  found  ourselves  surrounded  by  whales 
and  other  animals  of  an  immense  magni- 
tude, one  of  which  appeared  to  be  too  large 
for  the  eye  to  form  a  judgment  of;  we  did 
not  see  him  till  we  were  close  to  him,, 
This  monster  drew  our  ship,  with  all  her 
masts  standing  and  sails  bent,  by  suction 
into  his  mouth,  between  his  teeth,  which 
were  much  larger  and  taller  than  the 
mast  of  a  first-rate  man-of-war.  After  we 
had  been  in  his  mouth  some  time  he 
opened  it  pretty  wide,  took  in  an  immense 
quantity  of  water,  and  floated  our  vessel, 
which  was  at  least  500  tons  burthen,  into 
his  stomach ;  here  we  lay  as  quiet  as  at 
anchor  in  a  dead  calm.  The  air,  to  be 
sure,  was  rather  warm,  and  very  offensive. 
We  found  anchors,  cables,  boats,  and 
barges  in  abundance,  and  a  considerable 
number  of  ships,  some  laden  and  some 
not,  which  this  creature  had  swallowed. 
Everything  was  transacted  by  torchlight ; 
no  sun,  no  moon,  no  planet,  to  make  ob- 
servations from.  We  were  all  generally 
afloat  and  aground  twice  a  day ;  when- 
ever he  drank  it  became  high  water  with 
us ;  and  when  he  evacuated,  we  found 
ourselves  aground  ;  upon  a  moderate 
computation,  he  took  in  more  water  at  a 
single  draught  than  is  generally  to  be 
found  in  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  though  that 
is  above  thirty  miles  in  circumference. 
On  the  second  day  of  our  confinement  in 
these  regions  of  darkness  I  ventured  at 
low  water,  as  we  called  it  when  the  ship 
was  aground,  to  ramble  with  the  captain 
and  a  few  of  the  other  officers,  with  lights 
in  our  hands ;  we  met  with  people  of  all 
nations,  to  the  amount  of  upwards  of  ten 
thousand  ;  they  were  going  to  hold  a  coun- 
cil how  to  recover  their  liberty  ;  some  of 
them  had  lived  in  this  animal's  stomach 
several  years  ;  there  were  several  children 
here  who  had  never  seen  the  world,  their 
mothers  having  lain-in  repeatedly  in  this 
warm  situation.  Just  as  the  chairman 
was  going  to  inform  us  of  the  business 
upon  which  we  were  assembled,  this  plaguy 
fish,  becoming  thirsty,  drank  in  his  usual 
manner;  the  water  poured  in  with  euch 
impetuosity  that  we  were  all  obliged 
to  retreat  to  our  respective  ships  imme- 
diately, or  run  the  risk  of  being  drowned; 
some  were  obliged  to  swim  for  it,  and  with 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


difficulty  saved  their  lives.  In  a  few  hours 
after  we  were  more  fortunate;  we  met 
again  just  after  the  monster  had  evacu- 
ated. I  was  chosen  chairman,  and  the 
first  thing  I  did  was  to  propose  splicing 
two  main-masts  together,  and  the  next 
time  he  opened  his  mouth  to  be  ready  to 
wedge  them  in,  so  as  to  prevent  his  shut- 
ting it.  It  was  unanimously  approved. 
One  hundred  stout  men  were  chosen  upon 
this  service.  We  had  scarcely  got  our 
masts  properly  prepared  when  an  oppor- 
tunity offered ;  the  monster  opened  his 
mouth,  immediately  the  top  of  the  mast 
was  placed  against  the  roof,  and  the  other 
end  pierced  his  tongue,  which  effectually 
prevented  him  from  shutting  his  mouth. 
As  soon  as  everything  in  his  stomach  was 
afloat,  we  manned  a  few  boats,  who  rowed 
themselves  and  us  into  the  world.  The 
daylight,  after,  as  near  as  we  could  judge, 
three  months'  confinement  in  total  dark- 
ness, cheered  our  spirits  surprisingly. 
When  we  had  all  taken  our  leave  of  this 
capacious  animal,  we  mustered  just  a  fleet 
of  ninety-five  ships,  of  all  nations,  who 
had  been  in  this  confined  situation. 

We  left  the  two  masts  in  his  mouth,  to 
prevent  others  being  confined  in  the  same 
horrid  gulf  of  darkness  and  filth. 

Our  first  object  was  to  learn  what  part 
of  the  world  we  were  in ;  this  we  were  for 
some  time  at  a  loss  to  ascertain  ;  at  last  I 
found  from  former  observations,  that  we 
were  in  the  Caspian  Sea !  which  washes 
part  of  the  country  of  the  Calmuck  Tar- 
tars. How  we  came  here  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  conceive,  as  this  sea  has  no  com- 
munication with  any  other.  One  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Cheese  Island,  whom  I 
had  brought  with  me,  accounted  for  it 
thus :  that  the  monster  in  whose  stomach 
we  had  been  so  long  confined  bad  carried 
us  here  through  some  subterraneous  pas- 
sage ;  however,  we  pushed  to  shore,  and  I 
was  the  first  who  landed.  Just  as  I  put 
my  foot  upon  the  ground,  a  large  bear 
leaped  upon  me  with  his  fore-paws;  I 
caught  one  in  each  hand  and  squeezed 
him  till  he  cried  out  most  lustily  ;  how- 
ever, in  this  position  I  held  him  till  I 
starved  him  to  death.  You  may  laugh, 
gentlemen,  but  this  was  soon  accomplish- 
ed, as  I  prevented  him  licking  his  paws. 
From  hence  I  travelled  up  to  St.  Peters- 
burg a  second  time :  here  an  old  friend 
gave  me  a  most  excellent  pointer,  de- 
scended from  the  famous  bitch  before 


mentioned,   that  littered  while  she  was 

hunting  a  hare.     I  had  the  misfortune  to 

have  him  shot  soon  after,  by  a  blundering 

sportsman,  who  fired  at  him  instead  of  a 

covey  of  partridges  which  he  had  just  set. 

Of  this  creature's  skin  I  have  had  this 

waistcoat  made  (showing  his  waistcoat), 

which  always  leads  me  involuntarily  to 

game  if  I  walk  in  the  fields  in  the  proper 

!  season,  and  when  I  come  within  shot,  one 

I  of  the  buttons  constantly  flies  off  and  lodges 

j  upon  the  spot  where  the  sport  is ;  and  as 

I  the  birds  rise,  being  always  primed  and 

cocked,  I  never  miss  them.     Here  are  now 

but  three  buttons  left.    I  shall  have  a  new 

set  sewed  on  against  the  shooting  season 

commences. 

When  a  covey  of  partridges  is  disturbed 
in  this  manner,  by  the  button  falling 
amongst  them,  they  always  rise  from  the 

f round  in  a  direct  line  before  each  other. 
,  one  day,  by  forgetting  to  take  my  ram- 
rod out  of  my  gun,  shot  it  straight  through 
a  leash,  as  regularly  as  if  the  cook  had 
spitted  them.  I  had  forgot  to  put  in  any 
shot,  and  the  rod  had  been  made  so  hot 
with  the  powder,  that  the  birds  were  com- 
pletely roasted  by  the  time  I  reached 
home. 

Since  my  arrival  in  England  I  have 
accomplished  what  I  had  very  much  at 
heart,  viz.,  providing  for  the  inhabitant  of 
the  Cheese  Island,  whom  I  had  brought 
with  me.  My  old  friend,  Sir  William 
Chambers,  who  is  entirely  indebted  to  me 
for  all  his  ideas  of  Chinese  gardening,  by 
a  description  of  which  he  has  gained  such 
high  reputation ;  I  say,  gentlemen,  in  a 
discourse  which  I  had  with  this  gentle- 
man, he  seemed  much  distressed  for  a 
contrivance  to  light  the  lamps  at  the  new 
buildings,  Somerset  House  ;  the  common 
mode  with  ladders,  he  observed,  was  both 
dirty  and  inconvenient.  My  native  of 
the  Cheese  Island  popped  into  my  head  ; 
he  was  only  nine  feet  high  when  I  first 
brought  him  from  his  own  country,  but 
was  now  increased  to  ten  and  a  half:  I  in- 
troduced him  to  Sir  William,  and  he  is 
appointed  to  that  honorable  office.  He  is 
also  to  carry,  under  a  large  cloak,  a  uten- 
sil in  each  coat  pocket,  instead  of  those 
four  which  Sir  William  has  very  properly 
fixed  for  private  purposes  in  so  conspic- 
uous a  situation  in  the  great  quadrangle. 

He  has  obtained  from  Mr.  Pitt  the 
situation  of  messenger  to  his  Majesty's 
lords  of  the  bedchamber,  whose  principal 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


employment  will  now  be,  divulging  the 
secrets  of  the  royal  household  to  their  wor- 
thy Patron. 


SUPPLEMENT. 

EXTRAORDINARY  FLIGHT  ON  THE  BACK  OF 
AN  EAGLE,  OVER  FRANCE  TO  GIBRALTAR, 
SOUTH  AND  NORTH  AMERICA,  THE  POLAR 
REGIONS,  AND  BACK  TO  ENGLAND,  WITHIN 
SIX-AND-THIRTY  HOURS. 

ABOUT  the  beginning  of  his  present 
Majesty's  reign  I  had  some  business  with 
a  distant  relation  who  then  lived  on  the 
Isle  of  Thanet ;  it  was  a  family  dispute, 
and  not  likely  to  be  finished  soon.  I  made 
it  a  practice  during  my  residence  there, 
the  weather  being  fine,  to  walk  out  every 
morning.  After  a  few  of  these  excursions 
I  observed  an  object  upon  a  great  emi- 
nence about  three  miles  distant.  I  extended 
my  walk  to  it,  and  found  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  temple :  I  approached  it  with  ad- 
miration and  astonishment ;  the  traces  of 
grandeur  and  magnificence  which  yet  re- 
mained were  evident  proofs  of  its  former 
splendor :  here  I  could  not  help  lament- 
ing the  ravages  and  devastations  of  time, 
of  which  that  once  noble  structure  ex- 
hibited such  a  melancholy  proof.  I  walked 
round  it  several  times,  meditating  on  the 
fleeting  and  transitory  nature  of  all  terres- 
trial things  ;  on  the  eastern  end  were  the 
remains  of  a  lofty  tower,  near  forty  feet 
high,  overgrown  with  ivy,  the  top  appa- 
rently flat ;  I  surveyed  it  on  every  side 
very  minutely,  thinking  that  if  I  could 
gain  its  summit  I  should  enjoy  the  most 
delightful  prospect  of  the  circumjacent 
country.  Animated  with  this  hope,  I  re- 
solved, if  possible,  to  gain  the  summit, 
which  I  at  length  effected  by  means  of  the 
ivy,  though  not  without  great  difficulty 
and  danger ;  the  top  I  found  covered  with 
this  evergreen,  except  a  large  chasm  in 
the  middle.  After  I  had  surveyed  with 
pleasing  wonder  the  beauties  of  art  and 
nature  that  conspired  to  enrich  the  scene, 
curiosity  prompted  me  to  sound  the  open- 
ing in  the  middle,  in  order  to  ascertain  its 
depth,  as  I  entertained  a  suspicion  that  it 
might  probably  communicate  with  some 
unexplored  subterranean  cavern  in  the 
hill ;  but  having  no  line  I  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  proceed.  After  revolving  the  mat- 


ter in  my  thoughts  for  some  time,  I  re- 
solved to  drop  a  stone  down  and  listen  to 
the  echo :  having  found  one  that  answered 
my  purpose,  I  placed  myself  over  the 
hole,  with  one  foot  on  each  side,  and  stoop- 
ing down  to  listen,  I  dropped  the  stone, 
which  I  had  no  sooner  done  than  I  heard 
a  rustling  below,  and  suddenly  a  mon- 
strous eagle  put  up  its  head  right  opposite 
my  face,  and  rising  up  with  irresistible 
force,  carried  me  away  seated  on  its  shoul- 
ders :  I  instantly  grasped  it  around  the 
neck,  which  was  large  enough  to  fill  my 
arms,  and  its  wings,  when  extended,  were 
ten  yards  from  one  extremity  to  the  other. 
As  it  rose  with  a  regular  ascent,  my  seat 
was  perfectly  easy,  and  I  enjoyed  the 
prospect  below  with  inexpressible  pleas- 
ure. It  hovered  over  Margate  for  some 
time,  was  seen  by  several  people,  and 
many  shots  were  fired  at  it ;  one  ball  hit 
the  heel  of  my  shoe,  but  did  me  no  injury. 
It  then  directed  its  course  to  Dover  cliff, 
where  it  alighted,  and  I  thought  of  dis- 
mounting, but  was  prevented  by  a  sudden 
discharge  of  musketry  from  a  party  of 
marines  that  were  exercising  on  the  beach; 
the  balls  flew  about  my  head,  and  rattled 
on  the  feathers  of  the  eagle  like  hail- 
stones, yet  I  could  not  perceive  it  had  re- 
ceived any  injury.  It  instantly  reascended 
and  flew  over  the  sea  towards  Calais,  but 
so  very  high  that  the  Channel  seemed  to 
be  no  broader  than  the  Thames  at  London 
Bridge.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  found 
myself  over  a  thick  wood  in  France,  where 
the  eagle  descended  very  rapidly,  which 
caused  me  to  slip  down  to  the  back  part 
of  its  head ;  but  alighting  on  a  large  tree, 
and  raising  its  head,  I  recovered  my  seat 
as  before,  but  saw  no  possibility  of  disen- 

f  aging  myself  without  the  danger  of  being 
illed  by  the  fall ;  so  I  determined  to  sit 
fast,  thinking  it  would  carry  me  to  the 
Alps,  or  some  other  high  mountain,  where 
I  could  dismount  without  any  danger.  Af- 
ter resting  a  few  minutes  it  took  wing,  flew 
several  times  round  the  wood,  and  scream- 
ed loud  enough  to  be  heard  across  the 
English  Channel.  In  a  few  minutes  one 
of  the  same  species  arose  out  of  the  wood, 
and  flew  directly  towards  us  ;  it  surveyed 
me  with  evident  marks  of  displeasure, 
and  came  very  near  me.  After  flying 
several  times  round,  they  both  directed 
their  course  to  the  southwest.  I  soon  ob- 
served that  the  one  I  rode  upon  could  not 
keep  pace  with  the  other,  but  inclined  to- 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


225 


wards  the  earth,  on  account  of  ray  weight ; 
its  companion  perceiving  this,  turned 
round  and  placed  itself  in  such  a  position 
that  the  other  could  rest  its  head  on  its 
rump ;  in  this  manner  they  proceeded  till 
noon,  when  I  saw  the  rock  of  Gibraltar 
very  distinctly.  The  day  being  clear, 
notwithstanding  my  degree  of  elevation, 
the  earth's  surface  appeared  just  like  a 
map,  where  land,  sea,  lakes,  rivers,  moun- 
tains, and  the  like  were  perfectly  distin- 
guishable; and  having  some  knowledge 
of  geography,  I  was  at  no  loss  to  deter- 
mine what  part  of  the  globe  I  was  in. 

Whilst  I  was  contemplating  this  wonder- 
ful prospect,  a  dreadful  howling  suddenly 
began  all  around  me,  and  in  a  moment 
I  was  invested  by  thousands  of  small 
black,  deformed,  frightful  looking  crea- 
tures who  pressed  me  on  all  sides  in  such  a 
manner  that  I  could  neither  move  hand 
or  foot:  but  I  had  not  been  in  their 
possession  more  than  ten  minutes  when  I 
heard  the  most  delightful  music  that  can 
possibly  be  imagined,  which  was  suddenly 
changed  into  a  noise  the  most  awful  and 
tremendous,  to  which  the  report  of  cannon 
or  the  loudest  claps  of  thunder  could  bear 
no  more  proportion  than  the  gentle  ze- 
phyrs of  the  evening  to  the  most  dreadful 
hurricane;  but  the  shortness  of  its  dura- 
tion prevented  all  those  fatal  effects  which 
a  prolongation  of  it  would  certainly  have 
been  attended  with. 

The  music  commenced,  and  I  saw  a 
great  number  of  the  most  beautiful  little 
creatures  seize  the  other  party,  and  throw 
them  with  great  violence  into  something 
like  a  snuff-box,  which  they  shut  down, 
and  one  threw  it  away  with  incredible 
velocity  ;  then  turning  to  me,  he  said  they 
whom  he  had  secured  were  a  party  of 
devils,  who  had  wandered  from  their  pro- 
per habitation ;  and  that  the  vehicle  in 
which  they  were  enclosed  would  fly  with 
unabating  rapidity  for  ten  thousand  years, 
when  it  would  burst  of  its  own  accord, 
and  the  devils  would  recover  their  liberty 
and  faculties,  as  at  the  present  moment. 
He  had  no  sooner  finished  this  relation 
than  the  music  ceased,  and  they  all  dis- 
appeared, leaving  me  in  a  state  of  mind 
bordering  on  the  confines  of  despair. 

When  I  had  recomposed  myself  a  little, 
and  looking  before  me  with  inexpressible 
pleasure,  I  observed  that  the  eagles  were 
preparing  to  light  on  the  peak  of  Tene- 
riffe :  they  descended  to  the  top  of  a  rock, 


but  seeing  no  possible  means  of  escape  if 
I  dismounted  determined  me  to  remain 
where  I  was.  The  eagles  sat  down  seem- 
ingly fatigued,  when  the  heat  of  the  sun 
soon  caused  them  both  to  fall  aaleep,  nor 
did  I  long  resist  its  fascinating  power. 
In  the  cool  of  the  evening,  whea  the  sun 
retired  below  the  horizon,  I  was  roused 
from  sleep  by  the  eagle  moving  under  me ; 
and  having  stretched  myself  along  its 
back,  I  sat  up,  and  resumed  my  travelling 
position,  when  they  both  took  wing,  and 
having  placed  themselves  as  before, 
directed  their  course  for  South  America. 
The  moon  shining  bright  during  the  whole 
night,  I  had  a  fine  view  of  all  the  islands 
in  those  seas. 

About  the  break  of  day  we  reached  the 
great  continent  of  America,  that  part 
called  Terra  Firma,  and  descended  on  the 
top  of  a  very  high  mountain.  At  this 
time  the  moon,  far  distant  in  the  west, 
and  obscured  by  dark  clouds,  but  just 
afforded  light  sufficient  for  me  to  discover 
a  kind  of  shrubbery  all  around,  bearing 
fruit  something  like  cabbages,  which  the 
eagles  began  to  feed  on  very  eagerly.  I 
endeavored  to  discover  my  situation,  but 
fogs  and  passing  clouds  involved  me  in 
thickest  darkness,  and  what  rendered  the 
scene  still  more  shocking  was  the  tre- 
mendous howling  of  wild  beasts,  some  of 
which  appeared  to  be  very  near :  how- 
ever, I  determined  to  keep  my  seat,  ima- 
gining that  the  eagle  would  carry  me 
away  if  any  of  them  should  make  a  hostile 
attempt.  When  daylight  began  to  appear 
I  thought  of  examining  the  fruit  which  I 
had  seen  the  eagles  eat,  and  as  some  was 
hanging  which  1  could  easily  come  at,  I 
took  out  my  knife  and  cut  a  slice ;  but 
how  great  was  my  surprise  to  see  that  it 
had  all  the  appearance  of  roast  beef  re- 
gularly mixed,  both  fat  and  lean  !  I  tasted 
it,  found  it  well  flavored  and  delicious, 
then  cut  several  large  slices  and  put  in 
my  pocket,  where  I  found  a  crust  of  bread 
which  I  had  brought  from  Margate ;  took 
it  out,  and  found  three  musket- balls  that 
had  been  lodged  in  it  on  Dover  cliff.  I 
extracted  them,  and  cutting  a  few  slices 
more,  made  a  hearty  meal  of  bread  and 
cold  beef  fruit.  I  then  cut  down  two  of 
the  largest  that  grew  near  me,  and  tying 
them  together  with  one  of  my  garters, 
hung  them  over  the  eagle's  neck  for  an- 
other occasion,  filling  my  pockets  at  the 
same  time.  While  I  was  settling  these 


224 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


affairs  I  observed  a  large  fruit  like  an  in- 
flated bladder,  which  I  wished  to  try  an 
experiment  upon  :  and  striking  my  knife 
into  one  of  them,  a  fine  pure  liquor  like 
Hollands  gin  rushed  out,  which  the  eagles 
observing,  eagerly  drank  up  from  the 
ground.  I  cut  down  the  bladder  as  fast 
as  I  could,  and  saved  about  half  a  pint  in 
the  bottom  of  it,  which  I  tasted,  and  could 
not  distinguish  it  from  the  best  mountain 
wine.  I  drank  it  all,  and  found  myself 
greatly  refreshed.  By  this  time  the  eagles 
began  to  stagger  against  the  shrubs.  I 
endeavored  to  keep  my  seat,  but  was  soon 
thrown  to  some  distance  among  the  bushes. 
In  attempting  to  rise  I  put  my  hand  upon 
a  large  hedgehog,  which  happened  to  lie 
among  the  grass  upou  its  back :  it  in- 
stantly closed  round  my  hand,  so  that  I 
found  it  impossible  to  shake  it  off.  I 
struck  it  several  times  against  the  ground 
without  effect ;  but  while  I  was  thus  em- 
ployed I  heard  a  rustling  among  the 
shrubbery,  and  looking  up,  I  saw  a  huge 
animal  within  three  yards  of  me;  I  could 
make  no  defense,  but  held  out  both  my 
hands,  when  it  rushed  upon  me,  and 
seized  that  on  which  the  hedgehog  was 
fixed.  My  hand  being  soon  relieved,  I 
ran  to  some  distance,  where  I  saw  the 
creature  suddenly  drop  down  and  expire 
with  the  hedgehog  in  its  throat.  When 
the  danger  was  past  I  went  to  view  the 
eagles,  and  found  them  lying  on  the 
grass  fast  asleep,  being  intoxicated  with 
the  liquor  they  had  drank.  Indeed,  I 
found  myself  considerably  elevated  by  it, 
and  seeing  everything  quiet,  I  began  to 
search  for  some  more,  which  I  soon  found  ; 
and  having  cut  down  two  large  bladders, 
about  a  gallon  each,  I  tied  them  together, 
and  hung  them  over  the  neck  of  the  other 
eagle,  and  the  two  smaller  ones  I  tied 
with  a  cord  round  my  own  waist.  Having 
secured  a  good  stock  of  provisions,  and 
perceiving  the  eagles  begin  to  recover,  I 
again  took  my  seat.  In  half  an  hour  they 
arose  majestically  from  the  place,  without 
taking  the  least  notice  of  their  encum- 
brance. Each  reassumed  its  former 
station ;  and  directing  their  course  to  the 
northward,  they  crossed  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  entered  North  America,  and 
steered  directly  for  the  Polar  regions, 
which  gave  me  the  finest  opportunity  of 
viewing  the  vast  continent  that  can  pos- 
sibly be  imagined. 
Before  we  entered  the  frigid  zone  the 


cold  began  to  affect  me ;  but  piercing  one 
of  my  bladders,  I  took  a  draught,  and 
found  that  it  could  make  no  impression  on 
me  afterwards.  Passing  over  Hudson's 
Bay,  I  saw  several  of  the  company's  ships 
lying  at  anchor,  and  many  tribes  of  In- 
dians marching  with  their  furs  to  market. 

By  this  time  I  was  so  reconciled  to  my 
seat,  and  become  such  an  expert  rider, 
that  I  could  sit  up  and  look  around  me  ; 
but  in  general  I  lay  along  the  eagle's  neck, 
grasping  it  in  my  arms,  with  my  hands 
immersed  in  its  feathers,  in  order  to  keep 
them  warm. 

In  these  cold  climates  I  observed  that 
the  eagles  flew  with  greater  rapidity,  in 
order,  I  suppose,  to  keep  their  blood  in 
circulation.  In  passing  Baffin's  Bay  I 
saw  several  large  Greenlandmen  to  the 
eastward,  and  many  surprising  mountains 
of  ice  in  those  seas. 

While  I  was  surveying  these  wonders 
of  nature  it  occurred  to  me  that  this  was 
a  good  opportunity  to  discover  the  north- 
west passage,  if  any  such  thing  existed, 
and  not  only  obtain  the  reward  offered  by 
government,  but  the  honor  of  a  discovery 
pregnant  with  so  many  advantages  to 
every  European  nation.  But  while  my 
thoughts  were  absorbed  in  this  pleasing 
reverie,  I  was  alarmed  by  the  first  eagle 
striking  its  head  against  a  solid  trans- 
parent substance,  and  in  a  moment  that 
which  I  rode  experienced  the  same  fate, 
and  both  fell  down  seemingly  dead. 

Here  our  lives  must  inevitably  have 
terminated,  had  not  a  sense  of  danger  and 
the  singularity  of  my  situation  inspired 
me  with  a  degree  of  skill  and  dexterity 
which  enabled  us  to  fall  two  miles  per- 
pendicular with  as  little  inconveniency  as 
if  we  had  been  let  down  with  a  rope ;  for 
no  sooner  did  I  perceive  the  eagles  strike 
against  a  frozen  cloud,  which  is  very  com- 
mon near  the  poles,  than  (they  being  close 
together)  I  laid  myself  along  the  back  of 
the  foremost  and  took  hold  of  its  wings  to 
keep  them  extended,  at  the  same  time 
stretching  out  my  legs  behind  to  support 
the  wings  of  the  other.  This  had  the  de- 
sired effect,  and  we  descended  very  safe  on 
a  mountain  of  ice,  which  I  supposed  to 
be  about  three  miles  above  the  level 
of  the  sea. 

I  dismounted,  unloaded  the  eagles, 
opened  one  of  the  bladders  and  admin- 
istered some  of  the  liquor  to  each  of  them, 
without  once  considering  that  the  horrors 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCH AUSEN. 


225 


or  destruction  seemed  to  have  conspired 
against  me.  The  roaring  of  waves,  crash- 
ing of  ice,  and  the  howling  of  bears,  con- 
spired to  form  a  scene  the  most  awful 
and  tremendous  ;  but,  notwithstanding 
this,  my  concern  for  the  recovery  of  the 
eagles  was  so  great,  that  I  was  insensible 
of  the  danger  to  which  I  was  exposed. 
Having  rendered  them  every  assistance  in 
my  power,  I  stood  over  them  in  painful 
anxiety,  fully  sensible  that  it  was  only 
by  means  of  them  that  I  could  possibly 
be  delivered  from  these  abodes  of  despair. 

But  suddenly  a  monstrous  bear  began 
to  roar  behind  me,  with  a  voice  like 
thunder.  I  turned  round,  and  seeing  the 
creature  just  ready  to  devour  me,  having 
the  bladder  of  liquor  in  my  hands,  through 
fear  I  squeezed  it  so  hard,  that  it  burst, 
and  the  liquor  flying  in  the  eyes  of  the 
animal,  totally  deprived  it  of  sight.  It 
instantly  turned  from  me,  ran  away  in  a 
state  of  distraction  and  soon  fell  over  a 
precipice  of  ice  into  the  sea,  where  I  saw 
it  no  more. 

The  danger  being  over,  I  again  turned 
my  attention  to  the  eagles,  whom  I  found 
in  a  fair  way  of  recovery,  and  suspecting 
*hat  they  were  faint  for  want  of  victuals, 
{  took  one  of  the  beef  fruit,  cut  it  into 
small  slices  and  presented  them  with  it, 
which  they  devoured  with  avidity. 

Having  given  them  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  disposed  of  the  remainder  of 
my  provision,  I  took  possession  of  my 
seat  as  before.  After  composing  myself, 
and  adjusting  everything  in  the  best 
manner,  I  began  to  eat  and  drink  very 
heartily ;  and  through  the  effects  of  the 
mountain  wine,  as  I  called  it,  was  very 
cheerful,  and  began  to  sing  a  few  verses 
of  a  song  which  I  had  learned  when  I  was 
a  boy :  but  the  noise  soon  alarmed  the 
eagles  who  had  been  asleep,  through  the 
quantity  of  liquor  which  they  had  drank, 
and  they  arose  seemingly  much  terrified. 
Happily  for  me,  however,  when  I  was 
feeding  them  I  had  accidentally  turned 
their  heads  towards  the  southeast,  which 
course  they  pursued  with  a  rapid  motion. 
In  a  few  hours  I  saw  the  Western  Isles, 
and  soon  after  had  the  inexpressible 
pleasure  of  seeing  old  England.  I  took 
no  notice  of  the  seas  or  islands  over  which 
I  passed. 

The  eagles  descended  gradually  as  they 
drew  near  the  shore,  intending,  as  I  sup- 
posed, to  alight  on  one  of  the  Welsh 
VOL.  u. — w.  H. 


mountains ;  but  when  they  came  to  the 
distance  of  about  sixty  yards  two  guns 
were  fired  at  them,  loaded  with  balls,  one 
of  which  penetrated  a  bladder  of  liquor 
that  hung  to  my  waist ;  the  other  entered 
the  breast  of  the  foremost  eagle,  who  fell 
to  the  ground,  while  that  which  I  rode, 
having  received  no  injury,  flew  away  with 
amazing  swiftness. 

This  circumstance  alarmed  me  exceed- 
ingly, and  I  began  to  think  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  to  escape  with  my  life ; 
but  recovering  a  little,  I  once  more  looked 
down  upon  the  earth,  when,  to  my  inex- 
pressible joy,  I  saw  Margate  at  a  little 
distance,  and  the  eagle  descending  on  the 
old  tower  whence  it  had  carried  me  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  before.  It  no  sooner 
came  down  than  I  threw  myself  off,  happy 
to  find  that  I  was  once  more  restored  to 
the  world.  The  eagle  flew  away  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  I  sat  down  to  compose  my 
fluttering  spirits,  which  I  did  in  a  few 
hours. 

I  soon  paid  a  visit  to  my  friends,  and 
related  these  adventures.  Amazement 
stood  in  every  countenance ;  their  con- 
gratulations on  my  returning  in  safety 
were  repeated  with  an  unaffected  de- 
gree of  pleasure,  and  we  passed  the  even- 
ing as  we  are  doing  now,  every  person 
present  paying  the  highest  comphmenta 
to  my  COURAGE  and  VERACITY. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  BARON  INSISTS  ON  THE  VERACITY  OP  HIS 
FORMER  MEMOIRS  —  FORMS  A  DESIGN  OF 
MAKING  DISCOVERIES  IN  THE  INTERIOR 
PARTS  OF  AFRICA— HIS  DISCOURSE  WITH 
HILARO  FROSTICOS  ABOUT  IT — HIS  CON- 
VERSATION WITH  LADY  FRAGRANTIA — THE 
BARON  GOES,  WITH  OTHER  PERSONS  OF  DIS- 
TINCTION, TO  COURT ;  RELATES  AN  ANEC- 
DOTE OF  THE  MARQUIS  DE  BELLECOURT. 

ALL  that  I  have  related  before,  said  the 
Baron,  is  gospel ;  and  if  there  be  any  one 
so  hardy  as  to  deny  it,  I  am  ready  to 
fight  him  with  any  weapon  he  pleases. 
Yes,  cried  he,  in  a  more  elevated  tone,  as 
he  started  from  his  seat,  I  will  condemn 
him  to  swallow  this  decanter,  glass  and 
all,  perhaps,  and  filled  with  kerren-wasser 
[a  kind  of  ardent  spirit  distilled  from 
cherries,  and  much  used  in  some  parts  of 
Germany].  Therefore,  my  dear  friend* 

15 


226 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


and  companions,  have  confidence  in  what 
I  say,  and  pay  honor  to  the  tales  of  Mun- 
chausen.  A  traveller  has  a  right  to  relate 
and  embellish  his  adventures  as  he  pleases, 
and  it  is  very  impolite  to  refuse  that  de- 
ference and  applause  they  deserve. 

Having  passed  some  time  in  England 
since  the  completion  of  my  former  Me- 
moirs, I  at  length  began  to  revolve  in  my 
mind  what  a  prodigious  field  of  discovery 
must  be  in  the  interior  part  of  Africa.  I 
could  not  sleep  with  the  thoughts  of  it ; 
I  therefore  determined  to  gain  every  pro- 
per assistance  from  Government  to  pene- 
trate the  celebrated  source  of  the  Nile  and 
assume  the  viceroyship  of  the  interior 
kingdoms  of  Africa,  or,  at  least,  the  great 
realm  of  Monomotapa.  It  was  happy  for 
me  that  I  had  one  most  powerful  friend 
at  court,  whom  I  shall  call  the  illustrious 
Hilaro  Frosticos.  You  perchance  know 
him  not  by  that  name;  but  we  had  a 
language  among  ourselves,  as  well  we 
may,  for  in  the  course  of  my  peregrina- 
tions I  have  acquired  precisely  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  leash  of  lan- 
guages. What !  gentlemen,  do  you  stare  ? 
Well,  I  allow  there  are  not  so  many 
languages  spoken  in  this  vile  world  ;  but 
then,  have  I  not  been  in  the  Moon?  And, 
trust  me,  whenever  I  write  a  treatise  upon 
education,  I  shall  delineate  methods  of 
inculcating  whole  dozens  of  languages  at 
once,  French,  Spanish,  Greek,  Hebrew, 
Cherokee,  etc.,  in  such  a  style  as  will 
shame  all  the  pedagogues  existing. 

Having  passed  a  whole  night  without 
being  able  to  sleep  for  the  vivid  imagina- 
tion of  African  discoveries,  I  hastened  to 
the  levee  of  my  illustrious  friend,  Hilaro 
Frosticos,  and  having  mentioned  my  in- 
tention with  all  the  vigor  of  fancy,  he 
gravely  considered  my  words,  and  after 
some  awful  meditations,  thus  he  spoke : 
Olough,  ma  genesat,  istum  fullanah,  cum 
dera  kargos  belgarasah  eseum  balgo  bartigos 
triangulissimus  !  However,  added  he,  it 
behooveth  thee  to  consider  and  ponder 
well  upon  the  perils  and  the  multitudi- 
nous dangers  in  all  the  way  of  that  wight 
who  thus  advanceth  in  all  the  perambu- 
lation of  adventures  ;  and  verily,  most 
valiant  sire  and  Baron,  I  hope  thou  wilt 
demean  thyself  with  all '  that  laudable 
gravity  and  precaution  which,  as  is  related 
in  the  three  hundred  and  forty-seventh 
chapter  of  the  Prophilactics,  is  of  more 
consideration  than  all  the  merit  in  this 


terraqueous  globe.  Yes,  most  truly  do  I 
advise  thee  unto  thy  good,  and  speak  un- 
to thee,  most  valiant  Munchausen,  with 
the  greatest  esteem,  and  wish  thee  to 
succeed  in  thy  voyage  :  for  it  is  said,  that 
in  the  interior  realms  of  Africa  there  are 
tribes  that  can  see  but  just  three  inches 
and  a  half  beyond  the  extremity  of  their 
noses;  and  verily  thou  shouldest  moderate 
thyself,  even  sure  and  slow ;  they  stumble 
who  walk  fast.  But  we  shall  bring  you 
unto  the  Lady  Fragranlia,  and  have  her 
opinion  of  the  matter.  He  then  took  from 
his  pocket  a  cap  of  dignity,  such  as  is 
described  in  the  most  honorable  and  an- 
tique heraldry,  and  placing  it  upon  my 
head,  addressed  me  thus:  "As  thou 
seemest  again  to  revive  the  spirit  of  an- 
cient adventure,  permit  me  to  place  upon 
thy  head  this  favor,  as  a  mark  of  the 
esteem  in  which  I  hold  thy  valorous  dis- 
position." 

The  Lady  Fragrantia,  my  dear  friends, 
was  one  of  the  rnostdivine  creatures  in  all 
Great  Britain,  and  was  desperately  in  love 
with  me.  She  was  drawing  my  portrait 
upon  a  piece  of  white  satin,  when  the 
most  noble  Hilaro  Frosticos  advanced. 
He  pointed  to  the  cap  of  dignity  which 
he  had  placed  upon  my  head.  "  I  do  de- 
clare, Hilaro,"  said  the  lovely  Fragrantia, 
"  't  is  pretty,  't  is  interesting ;  I  love  you, 
and  I  like  you,  my  dear  baron,"  said  she, 
putting  on  another  plume  :  "  this  gives  it 
an  air  more  delicate  and  more  fantastical. 
I  do  thus,  my  dear  Munchausen,  as  your 
friend,  yet  you  can  reject  or  accept  my 
present  just  as  you  please  ;  but  I  like  the 
fancy,  't  is  a  good  one  and  I  mean  to  im- 
prove it :  and  against  whatever  enemies 
you  go,  I  shall  have  the  sweet  satisfaction 
to  remember  you  bear  my  favor  on  your 
head  !" 

I  snatched  it  with  trepidation,  and 
gracefully  dropping  on  my  knees,  I  three 
times  kissed  it  with  all  the  rapture  of 
romantic  love.  "  I  swear,"  cried  I,  "by 
thy  bright  eyes,  and  by  the  lovely  white- 
ness of  thine  arm,  that  no  savage,  tyrant, 
or  enemy  on  the  face  of  the  earth  shall 
despoil  me  of  this  favor,  while  one  drop  of 
the  blood  of  the  Munchausens  doth  circu- 
late in  my  veins  I  I  will  bear  it  triumphant 
through  the  realms  of  Africa,  whither  I 
now  intend  my  course,  and  make  it  re- 
spected, even  in  the  court  of  Prester 
John." 

"I  admire  your  spirit,"  replied   she, 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


227 


"  and  shall  use  my  utmost  interest  at 
court  to  have  you  dispatched  with  every 
pomp,  and  as  soon  as  possible ;  but  here 
cornea  a  most  brilliant  company  indeed  : 
Lady  Carolina  Wilhelmina  Amelia 
Skeggs,  Lord  Spigot  and  Lady  Faucet 
and  the  Countess  of  Belleair." 

After  the  ceremonies  of  introduction  to 
this  company  were  over,  we  proceeded  to 
consult  upon  the  business ;  and  as  the 
cause  met  with  general  applause,  it  was 
immediately  determined  that  I  should  pro- 
ceed without  delay,  as  soon  as  I  obtained 
the  sovereign  approbation.  "  I  am  con- 
vinced," said  Lord  Spigot,  "  that  if  there 
be  anything  really  unknown  and  worthy 
of  our  most  ardent  curiosity,  it  must  be  in 
the  immense  regions  of  Africa;  that  coun- 
try which  seems  to  be  the  oldest  on  the 
globe,  and  yet  with  the  greater  part  of 
which  we  are  almost  utterly  unacquaint- 
ed ;  what  prodigious  wealth  of  gold  and 
diamonds  must  not  lie  concealed  in  those 
torrid  regions  where  the  very  rivera  on  the 
coast  pour  forth  continual  specimens  of 
golden  sand  !  'T  is  my  opinion,  therefore, 
that  the  Baron  deserves  the  applause  of 
all  Europe  for  his  spirit,  and  merits  the 
most  powerful  assistance  of  the  sovereign." 

So  nattering  an  approbation,  you  may 
be  sure,  was  delightful  to  my  heart,  and 
with  every  confidence  and  joy  I  suffered 
them  to  take  me  to  'court  that  instant. 
After  the  usual  ceremonies  of  introduc- 
tion, suffice  it  to  say  that  I  met  with  every 
honor  and  applause  that  my  most  san- 
guine expectations  could  demand.  I  had 
always  a  taste  for  the  fashionable  je  ne 
sais  quoi  of  the  most  elegant  society,  and 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe  I  ever  found  myself  quite  at  home, 
and  experienced  from  the  whole  court  the 
most  flattering  esteem  and  admiration.  I 
remember,  one  particular  day,  the  fate  of 
the  unfortunate  Marquis  de  Bellecourt. 
The  Countess  of  Rassinda,  who  accompa- 
nied him,  looked  most  divinely.  "  Yes, 
I  am  confident,"  said  the  Marquis  de 
Bellecourt  to  me,  "  that  I  have  acted  ac- 
cording to  the  strictest  sentiments  of  jus- 
tice and  of  loyalty  to  my  sovereign.  What 
stronger  breast-plate  than  a  heart  un- 
tainted ?  and  though  I  did  not  receive  a 
word  nor  a  look,  yet  I  cannot  think — no, 
it  were  impossible  to  be  misrepresented. 
Conscious  of  my  own  integrity,  I  will  try 
again — I  will  go  boldly  up."  The  Mar- 
quis de  Bellecourt  saw  the  opportunity ; 


he  advanced  three  paces,  put  his  hand 
upon  his  breast  and  bowed.  "  Permit 
me,"  said  he,  "  with  the  moat  profound 

respect  to "  His  tongue  faltered — 

he  could  scarcely  believe  his  sight,  for  at 
that  moment  the  whole  company  were 
moving  out  of  the  room.  He  found  him- 
self almost  alone,  deserted  by  every  one. 
"  What  1 "  said  he,  "  and  did  he  turn  upon 
his  heel  with  the  most  marked  contempt  ? 
Would  he  not  speak  to  me  ?  Would  he 
not  even  hear  me  utter  a  word  in  my  de- 
fense ?"  His  heart  died  within  him — not 
even  a  look,  a  smile  from  any  one.  "  My 
friends !  Do  they  not  know  me  ?  Do 
they  not  see  me  ?  Alas  !  they  fear  to  catch 

the  contagion  of  my .  Then,"  said 

he,  "  adieu  I — 'tis  more  than  I  can  bear.  I 
shall  go  to  my  country  seat,  and  never, 
never  will  return.  Adieu,  fond  court, 
adieu  !" 

The  venerable  Marquis  de  Bellecourt 
stopped  for  a  moment  ere  he  entered  his 
carriage.  Thrice  he  looked  back,  and 
thrice  he  wiped  the  starting  tear  from  his 
eye.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  for  once,  at  least, 
truth  shall  be  found — in  the  bottom  of  a 
well ! " 

Peace  to  thy  ghost,  most  noble  mar- 
quis !  a  King  of  kings  shall  pity  thee ;  and 
thousands  who  are  yet  unborn  shall  owe 
their  happiness  to  thee,  and  have  cause 
to  bless  the  thousands,  perhaps,  that 
shall  never  even  know  thy  name;  but 
Munchausen's  self  shall  celebrate  thy 
glory ! 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  BARON'S  EXPEDI- 
TION INTO  AFRICA — DESCRIPTION  OF  HIS 
CHARIOT  ;  THE  BEAUTIES  OF  ITS  INTERIOR 
DECORATIONS  J  THE  ANIMALS  THAT  DREW 
IT,  AND  THE  MECHANISM  OF  THE  WHEELS. 

EVERYTHING  being  concluded,  and 
having  received  my  instructions  for  the 
voyage,  I  was  conducted  by  the  illustrious 
Hilaro  Frosticos,  the  Lady  Fragrantia. 
and  a  prodigious  crowd  of  nobility,  and 
placed  sitting  upon  the  summit  of  the 
whale's  bones  at  the  palace  ;  and  having 
remained  in  this  situation  for  three  days 
and  three  nights  as  a  trial  ordeal  and  a 
specimen  of  my  perseverance  and  resolu- 
tion, the  third  hour  after  midnight  they 


228 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


seated  me  in  the  chariot  of  Queen  Mab. 
It  was  of  a  prodigious  dimension,  large 
enough  to  contain  more  stowage  than  the 
tun  of  Heidelberg,  and  globular,  like  a 
hazel-nut ;  in  fact,  it  seemed  to  be  really  a 
hazel-nut  grown  to  a  most  extravagant  di- 
mension, and  that  a  great  worm  of  pro- 
portionable enormity  had  bored  a  hole  in 
the  shell.  Through  this  same  entrance  I 
was  ushered.  It  was  as  large  as  a  coach- 
door,  and  I  took  my  seat  in  the  centre,  a 
kind  of  chair  self-balanced  without  touch- 
ing anything,  like  the  fancied  tomb  of 
Mahomet. 

The  whole  interior  surface  of  the  nut- 
shell appeared  a  luminous  represent- 
ation of  all  the  stars  of  heaven,  the 
fixed  stars,  the  planets,  and  a  comet.  The 
stars  were  as  large  as  those  worn  by  our 
first  nobility,  and  the  comet,  excessively 
brilliant,  seemed  as  if  you  had  assembled 
all  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful  girls  in  the 
kingdom,  and  combined  them  like  a  pea- 
cock's plumage,  into  the  form  of  a  comet 
— that  is,  a  globe  and  a  bearded  tail  to  it, 
diminishing  gradually  to  a  point.  This 
beautiful  constellation  seemed  very  spor- 
tive and  delightful.  It  was  much  in  the 
form  of  a  tadpole !  and,  without  ceasing, 
went,  full  of  playful  giddiness,  up  and 
down  all  over  the  heaven  on  the  concave 
surface  of  the  nutshell.  One  time  it  would 
be  at  that  part  of  the  heavens  under  my 
feet,  and  in  the  next  minute  would  be  over 
my  head.  It  was  never  at  rest,  but  forever 
going  east,  west,  north,  or  south,  and  paid 
no  more  respect  to  the  different  worlds 
than  if  they  were  so  many  lanterns  with- 
out reflectors.  Some  of  them  he  would 
dash  against  and  push  out  of  their  places  ; 
others  he  would  burn  up  and  consume  to 
ashes ;  and  others  again  he  would  split 
into  fritters,  and  their  fragments  would 
instantly  take  a  globular  form,  like  spilled 
quicksilver,  and  become  satellites  to  what- 
ever other  worlds  they  should  happen  to 
meet  with  in  their  career.  In  short,  the 
whole  seemed  an  epitome  of  the  creation, 
past,  present,  and  future ;  and  all  that 
passes  among  the  stars  during  one  thousand 
years  was  here  generally  performed  in  as 
many  seconds. 

I  surveyed  all  the  beauties  of  the  cha- 
riot with  wonder  and  delight.  "  Certain- 
ly," cried  I,  "  this  is  heaven  in  miniature !" 
In  short,  I  took  the  reins  in  my  hand. 
But  before  I  proceed  on  my  adventures,  ~ 
shall  mention  the  rest  of  my  attendant 


furniture.  The  chariot  was  drawn  by  a 
team  of  nine  bulls  harnessed  to  it,  three 
after  three.  In  the  first  rank  was  a  most 
tremendous  bull  named  John  Mowmow* 
sky ;  the  rest  were  called  Jacks  in  general, 
but  not  dignified  by  any  particular  deno- 
mination. They  were  all  shod  for  the 
journey,  not  indeed  like  horses,  with  iron, 
or  as  bullocks  commonly  are,  to  drag  on  a 
cart ;  but  were  shod  with  men's  skulls. 
Each  of  their  feet  was,  hoof  and  all, 
crammed  into  a  man's  head,  cut  off"  for 
the  purpose,  and  fastened  therein  with  a 
kind  of  cement  or  paste,  so  that  the  skull 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of  the  foot  and  hoof 
of  the  animal.  With  these  skull-shoes 
the  creatures  could  perform  astonishing 
journeys,  and  slide  upon  the  water,  or 
upon  the  ocean,  with  great  velocity.  The 
harnesses  were  fastened  with  golden 
buckles,  and  decked  with  studs  in  a  su- 
perb style,  and  the  creatures  were  ridden 
by  nine  postilions,  crickets  of  a  great  size, 
as  large  as  monkeys,  who  sat  squat 
upon  the  heads  of  the  bulls,  and  were 
continually  chirping  at  a  most  infer- 
nal rate,  loud  in  proportion  to  their 
bodies. 

The  wheels  of  the  chariot  consisted  of 
upwards  of  ten  thousand  springs,  formed 
so  as  to  give  the  greater  impetuosity  to 
the  vehicle,  and  were  more  complex  than 
a  dozen  clocks  like  that  of  Strasburg.  The 
external  of  the  chariot  was  adorned  with 
banners,  and  a  superb  festoon  of  laurel 
that  formerly  shaded  me  on  horseback. 
And  now,  having  given  you  a  very  concise 
description  of  my  machine  for  travelling 
into  Africa,  which  you  must  allow  to  be 
far  superior  to  the  apparatus  of  Monsieur 
Vaillant,  I  shall  proceed  to  relate  the  ex- 
ploits of  my  voyage. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE  BARON  PROCEEDS  ON  HIS  VOYAGB-~ 
CONVOYS  A  SQUADRON  TO  GIBRALTAR- 
DECLINES  THE  ACCEPTANCE  OF  THE  ISLAND 
OF  CANDIA — HIS  CHARIOT  DAMAGED  BY 
POMPEY'S  PILLAR  AND  CLEOPATRA'S  NEE- 
DLE— THE  BARON  OUTDOES  ALEXANDER — 
BREAKS  HIS  CHARIOT,  AND  SPLITS  A  GREAT 
ROCK  AT  THE  CAPE  OF  GOOD  HOPE. 

TAKING  the  reins  in  my  hand,  while  the 
music  gave  a  general  salute,  I  cracked  my 
whip,  away  they  went,  and  in  three  houra 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


229 


I  found  myself  just  between  the  Isle  of 
Wight  and  the  main  land  of  England. 
Here  I  remained  four  days,  until  I  had 
received  part  of  my  accompaniment, which 
I  was  ordered  to  take  under  my  convoy. 
'T  was  a  squadron  of  men-of-war  that  had 
been  a  long  time  prepared  for  the  Baltic, 
but  which  were  now  destined  for  the  Med- 
iterranean. 

By  the  assistance  of  large  hooks  and 
eyes,  exactly  such  as  are  worn  in  our 
hats,  but  of  a  greater  size,  some  hun- 
dred weight  each,  the  men-of-war  hooked 
themselves  on  to  the  wheels  of  the 
vehicle :  and,  in  fact,  nothing  could  be 
more  simple  or  convenient,  because  they 
could  be  hooked  or  unhooked  in  an  in- 
stant with  the  utmost  facility.  In  short, 
having  given  a  general  discharge  of  their 
artillery,  and  three  cheers,  I  cracked  my 
whip,  away  we  went,  helter  skelter,  and 
in  six  jiffies  I  found  myself  and  all  my 
retinue  safe  and  in  good  spirits  just  at  the 
Rock  of  Gibraltar. 

Here  I  unhooked  my  squadron,  and 
having  taken  an  affectionate  leave  of 
the  officers,  I  suffered  them  to  proceed 
in  their  ordinary  manner  to  the  place 
of  their  destination.  The  whole  gar- 
rison were  highly  delighted  with  the 
novelty  of  my  vehicle ;  and  at  the  pressing 
solicitations  of  the  governor  and  officers  I 
went  ashore  and  took  a  view  of  that  bar- 
ren old  rock,  about  which  more  powder 
has  been  fired  away  than  would  purchase 
twice  as  much  fertile  ground  in  any  part 
of  the  world  I  Mounting  my  chariot,  I 
took  the  reins,  and  again  made  forward, 
in  mad  career,  down  the  Mediterranean 
to  the  Isle  of  Candia.  Here  I  received 
dispatches  from  the  Sublime  Porte,  en- 
treating me  to  assist  in  the  war  against 
Russia,  with  a  reward  of  the  whole  Island 
of  Candia  for  my  alliance.  At  first  I 
hesitated,  thinking  that  the  island  of  Can- 
dia would  be  a  more  valuable  acquisition 
to  the  sovereign  who  at  that  time  em- 
ployed me,  and  that  the  most  delicious 
wines,  sugar,  etc.,  in  abundance  would 
flourish  on  the  island ;  yet,  when  I  con- 
sidered the  trade  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany, which  would  most  probably  suffer 
by  the  intercourse  with  Persia  through 
the  Mediterranean,  I  at  once  rejected  the 
proposal,  and  had  afterwards  the  thanks 
of  the  Honorable  the  House  of  Commons 
for  my  propriety  and  political  discern- 
ment 


Having  been  properly  refreshed  at  Can 
dia,  I  again  proceeded,  and  in  a  short 
time  arrived  in  the  land  of  Egypt.  The 
land  of  this  country,  at  least  that  part  of  it 
near  the  sea,  is  very  low,  so  that  I  came 
upon  it  ere  I  was  aware,  and  the  Pillar  of 
Pompey  got  entangled  in  the  various 
wheels  of  the  machine,  and  damaged  the 
whole  considerably.  Still  I  drove  ou 
through  thick  and  thin,  till,  passing  over 
that  great  obelisk,  the  Needle  of  Cleopa- 
tra, the  work  got  entangled  again,  and 
jolted  at  a  miserable  rate  over  the  mud 
and  swampy  ground  of  all  that  country ; 
yet  my  poor  bulls  trotted  on  with  aston- 
ishing labor  across  the  Isthmus  of  Suez 
into  the  Red  Sea,  and  left  a  track,  an  ob- 
scure channel,  which  has  since  been  taken 
by  De  Tott  for  the  remains  of  a  canal  cut 
by  some  of  the  Ptolemies  from  the  Red 
Sea  to  the  Mediterranean;  but,  as  you 
perceive,  was  in  reality  no  more  than  the 
track  of  my  chariot,  the  car  of  Queea 
Mab. 

As  the  artists  at  present  in  that  coun- 
try are  nothing  wonderful,  though  the 
ancient  Egyptians,  't  is  said,  were  most 
astonishing  fellows,  I  could  not  procure 
any  new  coach-springs,  or  have  a  possi- 
bility of  setting  my  machine  to  rights  in 
the  kingdom  of  Egypt ;  and  as  I  could 
not  presume  to  attempt  another  journey 
overland,  and  the  great  mountains  of 
marble  beyond  the  source  of  the  Nile,  I 
thought  it  most  eligible  to  make  the  beat 
way  I  could,  by  sea,  to  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  where  I  supposed  I  should  get  some 
Dutch  smiths  and  carpenters,  or  perhaps 
some  English  artists ;  and  my  vehicle  be- 
ing properly  repaired,  it  was  my  intention 
thence  to  proceed,  overland,  through  the 
heart  of  Africa. 

The  surface  of  the  water,  1  well  knew, 
afforded  less  resistance  to  the  wheels 
of  the  machine — it  passed  along  the 
waves  like  the  chariot  of  Neptune  ;  and, 
in  short,  having  gotten  upon  the  Red 
Sea,  we  scudded  away  to  admiration 
through  the  pass  of  Bab  el  Mandeb  to  the 
great  Western  Coast  of  Africa,  where 
Alexander  had  not  the  courage  to  ven- 
ture. 

And  really,  my  friends,  if  Alexander 
had  ventured  toward  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  he  most  probably  would  have  never 
returned.  It  is  difficult  to  determine 
whether  there  were  then  any  inhabitants 
in  the  more  southern  parts  of  Africa  or 


230 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


not;  yet,  at  any  rate,  this  conqueror  of 
the  world  would  have  made  but  a  non- 
sensical adventure ;  his  miserable  ships, 
not  contrived  for  a  long  voyage,  would 
have  become  leaky,  and  foundered,  before 
he  could  have  doubled  the  Cape,  and  left 
his  Majesty  fairly  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
then  known  world.  Yet  it  would  have 
been  an  august  exit  for  an  Alexander,  af- 
ter having  subdued  Persia  and  India,  to 
be  wandering,  the  Lord  knows  where,  to 
Jup  or  Aminon,  perhaps,  or  on  a  voyage 
to  the  Moon,  as  an  Indian  chief  once  said 
to  Captain  Cook. 

But,  for  my  part,  I  was  far  more  suc- 
cessful than  Alexander  ;  I  drove  on  with 
the  most  amazing  rapidity,  and  thinking 
to  halt  on  shore  at  the  Cape,  I  unfortu- 
nately drove  too  close,  and  shattered  the 
right  side  wheels  of  my  vehicle  against 
the  rock,  now  called  the  Table  Mountain. 
The  machine  went  against  it  with  such 
impetuosity  as  completely  shivered  the 
rock  in  a  horizontal  direction ;  so  that  the 
summit  of  the  mountain,  in  the  form  of  a 
eemisphere,  was  knocked  into  the  sea, 
and  the  steep  mountain  becoming  there- 
by flattened  at  the  top,  has  since  re- 
ceived the  name  of  the  Table  Mountain, 
from  its  similarity  to  that  piece  of  furni- 
ture. 

Just  as  this  part  of  the  mountain  was 
knocked  off,  the  ghost  of  the  Cape,  that 
tremendous  sprite  which  cuts  such  a 
figure  in  the  Lusiad,  was  discovered  sit- 
ting squat  in  an  excavation  formed  for 
him  in  the  centre  of  the  mountain.  He 
seemed  just  like  a  young  bee  in  his  little 
cell  before  he  comes  forth,  or  like  a  bean 
in  a  bean-pod  ;  and  when  the  upper  part 
of  the  mountain  was  split  across  and 
knocked  off,  the  superior  half  of  his  person 
was  discovered.  He  appeared  of  a  bottle- 
blue  color,  and  started,  dazzled  with  the 
unexpected  glare  of  the  light ;  hearing 
the  dreadful  rattle  of  the  wheels,  and 
the  Loud  chirping  of  the  crickets,  he 
was  thunderstruck,  and  instantly  giving 
a  shriek,  sunk  down  ten  thousand  fa- 
thoms into  the  earth,  while  the  moun- 
tain, vomiting  out  some  smoke,  silent- 
ly closed  up,  and  left  not  a  trace  be- 
hind I 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  BARON  SECURES  HIS  CHARIOT,  ETC.,  AT 
THE  CAPE  AND  TAKES  HIS  PASSAGE  FOR 
ENGLAND  IN  A  HOMEWARD  BOUND  INDIA- 
MAN—WRECKED  UPON  AN  ISLAND  OF  ICE, 
NEAR  THE  COAST  OF  GUINEA— ESCAPES 
FROM  THE  WRECK  AND  REARS  A  VARIETY 
OF  VEGETABLES  UPON  THE  ISLAND — MEETS 
SOME  VESSELS  BELONGING  TO  THE  NEGROES 
BRINGING  WHITE  SLAVES  FROM  EUROPE, 
IN  RETALIATION,  TO  WORK  UPON  THEIR 
PLANTATIONS  IN  A  COLD  CLIMATE  NEAR 
THE  SOUTH  POLE — ARRIVES  IN  ENGLAND 
AND  LAYS  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  EXPEDITION 
BEFORE  THE  PRIVY  COUNCIL — GREAT  PRE- 
PARATIONS FOR  A  NEW  EXPEDITION— THE 
SPHINX,  GOG  AND  MAGOG,  AND  A  GREAT 
COMPANY  ATTEND  HIM — THE  IDEAS  OF 
HILARO  FROSTICOS  RESPECTING  THE  IN- 
TERIOR PARTS  OF  AFRICA  DESCRIBED. 

I  PERCEIVED  with  grief  and  consterna- 
tion the  miscarriage  of  all  my  apparatus  ; 
yet  I  was  not  absolutely  dejected ;  a  great 
mind  is  never  known  but  in  adversity. 
With  permission  of  the  Dutch  governor 
the  chariot  was  properly  laid  up  in  a  great 
storehouse  erected  at  the  water's  edge, 
and  the  bulls  received  every  refreshment 
possible  after  so  terrible  a  voyage.  Well, 
you  may  be  sure  they  deserved  it,  and 
therefore  every  attendance  was  engaged 
for  them,  until  I  should  return. 

As  it  was  not  possible  to  do  anything 
more  I  took  my  passage  in  a  homeward- 
bound  Indiaman,  to  return  to  London,  and 
lay  the  matter  before  the  Privy  Council. 

We  met  with  nothing  particular  until 
we  arrived  upon  the  coast  of  Guinea, 
where,  to  our  utter  astonishment,  we  per- 
ceived a  great  hill,  seemingly  of  glass, 
advancing  against  us  in  the  open  sea ;  the 
rays  of  the  sun  were  reflected  upon  it  with 
such  splendor  that  it  was  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  gaze  at  the  phenomenon.  I  im- 
mediately knew  it  to  be  an  island  of  ice, 
and  though  in  so  very  warm  a  latitude, 
determined  to  make  all  possible  sail  from 
such  horrible  danger.  We  did  so,  but  all 
in  vain,  for  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night, 
blowing  a  very  hard  gale,  and  exceed- 
ingly dark,  we  struck  upon  the  island. 
Nothing  could  equal,  the  distraction,  the 
shrieks  and  despair  of  the  whole  crew, 
until  I,  knowing  there  was  not  a  moment 
to  be  lost,  cheered  up  their  spirits,  and 
bade  them  not  despond,  but  do  as  I  should 
request  them.  In  a  few  minutes  the  vessel 
was  half  full  of  water,  and  the  enormous 
castle  of  ice  that  seemed  to  hem  us  in  on 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


231 


every  side,  in  some  places  falling  in  hide- 
ous fragments  upon  the  deck,  killed  the 
one-half  of  the  crew;  upon  which,  getting 
upon  the  summit  of  the  mast,  I  contrived 
to  make  it  fast  to  a  great  promontory  of 
the  ice,  and  calling  to  the  remainder  of 
the  crew  to  follow  me,  we  all  escaped  from 
the  wreck,  and  got  upon  the  summit  of 
the  island. 

The  rising  sun  soon  gave  us  a  dreadful 
prospect  of  our  situation,  and  the  loss,  or 
rather  icefication,  of  the  vessel ;  for  being 
closed  in  on  every  side  with  castles  of  ice 
during  the  night,  she  was  absolutely 
frozen  over  and  buried  in  such  a  manner 
that  we  could  behold  her  under  our  feet, 
even  in  the  central  solidity  of  the  island. 
Having  debated  what  was  best  to  be  done, 
we  immediately  cut  down  through  the  ice, 
and  got  up  some  of  the  cables  of  the  vessel, 
and  the  boats,  which,  making  fast  to  the 
island,  we  towed  it  with  all  our  might, 
determined  to  bring  home  island  and  all, 
or  perish  in  the  attempt.  On  the  summit 
of  the  island  we  placed  what  oakum  and 
dregs  of  every  kind  of  matter  we  could 
get  from  the  vessel,  which,  in  the  space  of 
a  very  few  hours,  on  account  of  the  lique- 
fying of  the  ice,  and  the  warmth  of  the 
sun,  were  transformed  into  a  very  fine 
manure ;  and  as  I  had  some  seeds  of 
exotic  vegetables  in  my  pocket,  we  shortly 
had  a  sufficiency  of  fruits  and  roots  grow- 
ing upon  the  island  to  supply  the  whole 
crew,  especially  the  bread  fruit  tree,  a  few 
plants  of  which  had  been  in  the  vessel ; 
and  another  tree,  which  bore  plum-pud- 
dings so  very  hot,  and  with  such  exquisite 
proportion  of  sugar,  fruit,  etc.,  that  we  all 
acknowledged  it  was  not  possible  to  taste 
anything  of  the  kind  more  delicious  in 
England  :  in  short,  though  the  scurvy  had 
made  such  dreadful  progress  among  the 
crew,  before  our  striking  upon  the  ice,  the 
supply  of  vegetables,  and  especially  the 
bread-fruit  and  pudding  fruit,  put  an  al- 
most immediate  stop  to  the  distemper. 

We  had  not  proceeded  thus  many  weeks, 
advancing  with  incredible  fatigue  by  con- 
tinual towing,  when  we  fell  in  with  a  fleet 
of  Negromen,  as  they  call  them.  These 
wretches,  I  must  inform  you,  my  dear 
friends,  had  found  means  to  make  prizes 
of  those  vessels  from  some  Europeans  upon 
the  coast  of  Guinea,  and  tasting  the  sweets 
of  luxury,  had  formed  colonies  in  geveral 
new  discovered  islands  near  the  south 
JHHC,  where  they  had  a  variety  of  plan- 


tations of  such  matters  as  would  only 
grow  in  the  coldest  climate.  As  the  black 
inhabitants  of  Guinea  were  unsuited  to 
the  climate  and  excessive  cold  of  the 
country,  they  formed  the  diabolical  pro- 
ject of  getting  Christian  slaves  to  work  for 
them.  For  this  purpose  they  sent  vessels 
every  year  to  the  coast  of  Scotland,  the 
northern-parts  of  Ireland  and  Wales,  and 
were  even  sometimes  seen  off  the  coast  of 
Cornwall.  And  having  purchased,  or  en- 
trapped by  fraud  or  violence  a  great  num- 
ber of  men,  women  and  children,  they 
proceeded  with  their  cargoes  of  human 
flesh  to  the  other  end  of  the  world,  and 
sold  them  to  their  planters,  where  they 
were  flogged  into  obedience,  and  made  to 
work  like  horses  all  the  rest  of  their  lives. 

My  blood  ran  cold  at  the  idea,  while 
every  one  on  the  island  also  expressed  his 
horror  that  such  an  iniquitous  traffic 
should  be  suffered  to  exist.  But,  except 
by  open  violence,  it  was  found  impossible 
to  destroy  the  trade,  on  account  of  a  bar- 
barous prejudice,  entertained  of  late  by 
the  negroes,  that  the  white  people  have  no 
souls !  However,  we  were  determined  to 
attack  them,  and  steering  down  our  island 
upon  them,  soon  overwhelmed  them :  we 
saved  as  many  of  the  white  people  as 
possible,  but  pushed  all  the  blacks  into 
the  water  again.  The  poor  creatures  we 
saved  from  slavery  were  so  overjoyed,  that 
they  wept  aloud  through  gratitude,  and 
we  experienced  every  delightful  sensation 
to  think  what  happiness  we  should 
shower  upon  their  parents,  their  brothers 
and  sisters  and  children,  by  bringing 
them  home  safe,  redeemed  from  slavery, 
to  the  bosom  of  their  native  country. 

Having  happily  arrived  in  England,  I 
immediately  laid  astatement  of  my  voyage, 
etc.,  before  the  Privy  Council,  and  en- 
treated an  immediate  assistance  to  travel 
into  Africa,  and,  if  possible,  refit  my  for- 
mer machine,  and  take  it  along  with  the 
rest.  Everything  was  instantly  granted 
to  my  satisfaction,  and  I  received  orders 
to  get  myself  ready  for  departure  as  soon 
as  possible. 

As  the  Emperor  of  China  had  sent  a 
most  curious  animal  as  a  present  to  Eu- 
rope, which  was  kept  in  the  Tower,  and  it 
being  of  an  enormous  stature,  and  capable 
of  performing  the  voyage  with  eclat,  she 
was  ordered  to  attend  me.  She  was 
called  Sphinx,  and  was  one  of  the  most 
tremendous  though  magnificent  figures  I 


232 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEX. 


ever  beheld.  She  was  harnessed  with 
superb  trappings  to  a  large  flat-bottomed 
boat,  in  which  was  placed  an  edifice  of 
wood,  exactly  representing  Westminster 
Hall.  Two  balloons  were  placed  over  it, 
tackled  by  a  number  of  ropes  to  the 
boat,  to  keep  up  a  proper  equilibrium, 
and  prevent  it  from  overturning,  or  fill- 
ing, from  the  prodigious  weight  of  the 
fabric. 

The  interior  of  the  edifice  was  decorated 
with  seats,  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre, 
and  crammed  as  full  as  it  could  hold  with 
ladies  and  lords,  as  a  council  and  retinue 
for  your  humble  servant.  Nearly  in  the 
centre  was  a  seat  elegantly  decorated  for 
myself,  and  on  either  side  of  me  were 
placed  the  famous  Gog  and  Magog  in  all 
their  pomp. 

The  Lord  Viscount  Gosamer  being  our 
postilion,  we  floated  gallantly  down  the 
river,  the  noble  Sphinx  gambolling  like 
the  huge  leviathan,  and  towing  after  her 
the  boat  and  balloons. 

Thus  we  advanced,  sailing  gently,  into 
the  open  sea ;  being  calm  weather,  we 
could  scarcely  feel  the  motion  of  the 
vehicle,  and  passed  our  time  in  grand  de- 
bate upon  the  glorious  intention  of  our 
voyage,  and  the  discoveries  that  would 
result. 

"I  am  of  opinion,"  said  my  noble 
friend,  Hilaro  Frosticos,  "  that  Africa  was 
originally  inhabited  for  the  greater  part, 
or,  I  may  say,  subjugated  by  lions,  which, 
next  to  man,  seem  to  be  the  most  dreaded 
of  all  mortal  tyrants.  The  country  in 
general  —  at  least  what  we  have  been 
Hitherto  able  to  discover,  seems  rather 
inimical  to  human  life ;  the  intolerable 
dryness  of  the  place,  the  burning  sands 
that  overwhelm  whole  armies  and  cities 
in  general  ruin,  and  the  hideous  life  many 
roving  hordes  are  compelled  to  lead,  in- 
cline me  to  think,  that  if  ever  we  form 
any  great  settlements  therein,  it  will  be- 
come the  grave  of  our  countrymen.  Yet  it 
is  nearer  to  us  than  the  East  Indies,  and 
I  cannot  but  imagine,  that  in  many  places 
every  production  of  China,  and  of  the 
East  and  West  Indies,  would  flourish,  if 
properly  attended  to.  And  as  the  country 
isso  prodigiously  extensive  and  unknown, 
what  a  source  of  discovery  must  not  it 
contain  !  In  fact,  we  know  less  about  the 
interior  of  Africa  than  we  do  of  the  Moon  ; 
for  in  this  latter  we  measure  the  very  pro- 
minences, and  observe  the  varieties  and 


Forests  and  mountains   on  her  spotted 
orb.' 

"  But  we  see  nothing  in  the  interior  of 
Africa,  but  what  some  compilers  of  maps 
or  geographers  are  fanciful  enough  to 

magine.  What  a  happy  event,  therefore, 
should  we  not  expect  from  a  voyage 
of  discovery  and  colonization  undertaken 
in  so  magnificent  a  style  as  the  present ! 
what  a  pride  —  what  an  acquisition  to 

philosophy ! '' 


inequalities  of  the  surface  through  our 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

COUNT  GOSAMER  THROWN  BY  SPHINX  INTO 
THE  SNOW  ON  THE  TOP  OF  TENERIFFE — GOG 
AND  MAGOG  CONDUCT  SPHINX  FOR  THE 
REST  OF  THE  VOYAGE — THE  BARON  AR- 
RIVES AT  THE  CAPE,  AND  UNITES  HIS  FOR- 
MER CHARIOT,  ETC.,  TO  HIS  NEW  RETINUE — 
PASSES  INTO  AFRICA,  PROCEEDING  FROM 
THE  CAPE  NORTHWARDS — DEFEATS  A  HOST 
OF  LIONS  BY  A  CURIOUS  STRATAGEM — 
TRAVELS  THROUGH  AN  IMMENSE  DESERT — 
HIS  WHOLE  COMPANY,  CHARIOT,  ETC., 
OVERWHELMED  BY  A  WHIRLWIND  OF  SAND 
— EXTRICATES  THEM,  AND  ARRIVES  IN  A 
FERTILE  COUNTRY. 

THE  brave  Count  Gosamer,  with  a  huge 
pair  of  hell-fire  spurs  on,  riding  on  Sphinx, 
directed  the  whole  retinue  towards  the 
Madeiras.  But  the  count  had  no  small 
share  of  an  amiable  vanity,  and  perceiving 
great  multitudes  of  people,  Gascons,  etc,, 
assembled  on  the  French  coast,  he  could 
not  refrain  from  showing  some  singular 
capers,  such  as  they  had  never  seen  before : 
but  especially  when  he  observed  all  the 
members  of  the  National  Assembly  extend 
themselves  along  the  shore,  as  a  piece  of 
French  politeness,  to  honor  this  expe- 
dition, with  Rousseau,  Voltaire,  and  Beel- 
zebub at  their  head;  he  set  spurs  to 
Sphinx,  and  at  the  same  time  cut  and 
cracked  away  as  hard  as  he  could,  holding 
in  the  reins  with  all  his  might,  striving  to 
make  the  creature  plunge  and  show  some 
uncommon  diversion.  But  sulky  and  ill- 
tempered  was  Sphinx  at  the  time :  she 
plunged  indeed — such  a  devil  of  a  plunge, 
that  she  dashed  him  in  one  jerk  over  her 
head,  and  he  fell  precipitately  into  the 
water  before  her.  It  was  in  the  Bay  of 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


233 


Biscay,  all  the  world  knows  a  very  bolster- ! 
ous  sea,  and  Sphinx  fearing  he  would  be  1 
drowned,  never  turned  to  the  left  or  the  j 
right  out  of  his  way,  but  advancing  furi-  | 
ous,  just  stooped  her  head  a  little,  and 
supped  the  poor  Count  off  the  water  into 
her  mouth,  together  with  the  quantity  of  j 
two  or  three  tuns  of  water  which  she  must ! 
have  taken  in  along  with  him,  but  which  ' 
were,  to  such  an   enormous  creature   as  j 
Sphinx,   nothing  more  than   a  spoonful  j 
would  be  to  any  of   you  or   me.      She 
swallowed  him,  but  when  she  had  got  him 
in  her  stomach,  his  long  spurs  so  scratched  j 
and  tickled  her,  that  they  produced  the  i 
effect  of  an  emetic.    No  sooner  was  he  in,  | 
but  out  he  was  squirted  with  the  most  • 
horrible  impetuosity,  like  a  ball  or  a  shell  j 
from  the  calibre  of  a  mortar.  Sphinx  was 
at  this  time  quite  sea-sick,  and  the  un-  J 
fortunate  Count  was  driven  forth  like  a  i 
sky-rocket,  and  landed  upon  the  peak  of , 
Teneriffe,  plunged  over  head  and  ears  in  ! 
the  snow — requiescat  in  pace  ! 

I  perceived  all  this  mischief  from  my 
seat  in  the  ark,  but  was  in  such  a  con- 
vulsion of  laughter,  that  I  could  not  utter 
an  intelligible  word.  And  now  Sphinx, 
deprived  of  her  postilion,  went  on  a  zig- 
zag direction,  and  gambolled  away  after  a 
most  dreadful  manner.  And  thus  had 
everything  gone  to  wreck,  had  I  not  given 
instant  orders  to  Gog  and  Magog  to  sally 
forth.  They  plunged  into  the  water,  and  i 
Swimming  on  each  side,  got  at  length  i 
right  before  the  animal,  and  then  seized 
the  reins.  Thus  they  continued  swim- 
ming on  each  side,  like  tritons,  holding  , 
the  muzzle  of  Sphinx,  while  I,  sallying 
forth  astride  upon  the  creature's  back, 
steered  forward  on  our  voyage  to  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope. 

Arriving  at  the  Cape,  I  immediately 
gave  orders  to  repair  my  former  chariot 
and  machines  which  were  very  expedi-  i 
tiously  performed  by  the  excellent  artists  I 
had  brought  with  me  from  Europe.  And 
now  everything  being  refitted,  we  launched 
forth  upon  the  water :  perhaps  there  never 
was  anything  more  glorious  or  more 
august.  'T  was  magnificent  to  behold 
Sphinx  make  her  obeisance  on  the  water, 
and  the  crickets  chirp  upon  the  bulls  in 
return  of  the  salute ;  while  Gog  and 
Magog  advancing,  took  the  reins  of  the 
great  John  Mowmowsky,  and  leading  to- 
wards us,  chariot  and  all,  instantly  dis- 
posed of  them  to  the  forepart  of  the  ark  by 


hooks  and  eye?,  and  tackled  Sphinx  be- 
fore all  the  bulls.  Thus  the  whole  had  a 
most  tremendous  and  triumphal  appear- 
ance. In  front  floated  forwards  the 
mighty  Sphinx,  with  Gog  and  Magog  on 
each  side;  next  followed  in  order  the  bulls 
with  crickets  011  their  heads ;  and  then  ad- 
vanced the  chariot  of  Queen  Mab,  con- 
taining the  curious  seat  and  orrery  of 
heaven ;  after  which  appeared  the  boat 
and  ark  of  council,  overtopped  with  two 
balloons,  which  gave  an  air  of  greater 
lightness  and  elegance  to  the  whole.  I 
placed  in  the  galleries  under  the  balloons 
and  on  the  backs  of  the  bulls,  a  number 
of  excellent  vocal  performers,  with  mar- 
tial music  of  clarionets  and  trumpets. 
They  sung  the  "  Watery  Dangers,"  and 
the  "  Pomp  of  Deep  Cerulean ! "  The  sun 
shone  glorious  on  the  water  while  the 
procession  advanced  toward  the  land 
under  five  hundred  arches  of  ice,  illumi- 
nated with  colored  lights,  and  adorned  in 
the  most  grotesque  and  fanciful  style  with 
sea-weed,  elegant  festoons  and  shells  of 
every  kind;  while  a  thousand  water- 
spouts danced  eternally  before  and  after 
us,  attracting  the  water  from  the  sea  in  a 
kind  of  cone,  and  suddenly  uniting  with 
the  most  fantastical  thunder  and  lightning. 

Having  landed  our  whole  retinue,  we 
immediately  began  to  proceed  toward  the 
heart  of  Africa,  but  first  thought  it  ex- 
pedient to  place  a  number  of  wheels  under 
the  ark  for  its  greater  facility  of  advancing. 
We  journeyed  nearly  due  north  for  several 
days,  and  met  with  nothing  remarkable, 
except  the  astonishment  of  the  savage 
natives  to  behold  our  equipage. 

The  Dutch  Government  at  the  Cape,  to 
do  them  justice,  gave  us  every  possible 
assistance  for  the  expedition.  I  presume 
they  had  received  instruction  on  that 
head  from  their  High  Mightinesses  in 
Holland.  However,  they  presented  us  with 
a  specimen  of  some  of  the  most  excellent 
of  their  Cape  wine,  and  showed  us  every 
politeness  in  their  power.  As  to  the  face 
of  the  country,  as  we  advanced,  it  ap- 
peared in  many  places  capable  of  every 
cultivation  and  of  abundant  fertility. 
The  natives  and  Hottentots  of  this 
part  of  Africa  have  been  frequently  de- 
scribed by  travellers,  and  therefore  it  is  not 
necessary  to  say  any  more  of  them.  But 
in  the  more  interior  parts  of  Africa,  the 
appearance,  manners,  and  genius  of  the 
people  are  totally  different. 


234 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


We  directed  our  course  by  the  compass 
and  stars,  getting  every  day  prodigious 
quantities  of  game  in  the  woods,  and  at 
night  encamping  within  a  proper  en- 
closure for  fear  of  the  wild  beasts.  One 
whole  day  in  particular  we  heard  on  every 
side,  among  the  hills,  the  horrible  roaring 
of  lions  resounding  from  rock  to  rock  like 
broken  thunder.  It  seemed  as  if  there 
was  a  general  rendezvous  of  all  these 
savage  animals  to  fall  upon  our  party. 
That  whole  day  we  advanced  with  caution, 
our  hunters  scarcely  venturing  beyond 
pistol  shot  from  the  caravan  for  fear  of 
dissolution.  At  night  we  encamped  as 
usual,  and  threw  up  a  circular  entrench- 
ment round  our  tents.  We  had  scarce  re- 
tired to  repose  when  we  found  ourselves 
serenaded  by  at  least  one  thousand  lions, 
approaching  equally  on  every  side,  and 
within  a  hundred  paces.  Our  cattle 
showed  the  most  horrible  symptoms  of 
fear,  all  trembling,  and  in  cold  perspira- 
tion. I  directly  ordered  the  whole  com- 
pany to  stand  to  their  arms,  and  not  to 
make  any  noise  by  firing  till  I  should 
command  them.  I  then  took  a  large 
quantity  of  tar,  which  I  had  brought  with 
our  caravan  for  that  purpose,  and  strewed 
it  in  a  continued  stream  round  the  en- 
campment, within  which  circle  of  tar  I 
immediately  placed  another  train  or  circle 
of  gunpowder,  and  having  taken  this  pre- 
caution, I  anxiously  waited  the  lions'  ap- 
proach. These  dreadful  animals,  know- 
ing, I  presume,  the  force  of  our  troop, 
advanced  very  slowly,  and  with  caution, 
approaching  on  every  side  of  us  with  an 
equal  pace,  and  growling  in  hideous  con- 
cert, so  as  to  resemble  an  earthquake,  or 
some  similar  convulsion  of  the  world. 
When  they  had  at  length  advanced  and 
steeped  all  their  paws  in  the  tar,  they  put 
their  noses  to  it,  smelling  it  as  if  it  were 
blood,  and  daubed  their  great  bushy  hair 
and  whiskers  with  it  equal  to  their  paws. 
At  that  very  instant,  when,  in  concert, 
they  were  to  give  the  mortal  dart  upon  us, 
I  discharged  a  pistol  at  the  train  of  gun- 
powder, which  instantly  exploded  on 
every  side,  made  all  the  lions  recoil  in 
general  uproar,  and  take  to  flight  with 
the  utmost  precipitation.  In  an  instant 
we  could  benold  them  scattered  through 
the  woods  at  some  distance,  roaring  in 
agony,  and  moving  about  like  so  many 
Will-o'-the- Wisps,  their  paws  and  faces 
all  on  fire  from  the  tar  and  the  gunpowder. 


I  then  ordered  a  general  pursuit :  we  fol- 
lowed them  on  every  side  through  the 
woods,  their  own  light  serving  as  our 
guide,  until,  before  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
we  followed  into  their  fastnesses  and  shot 
or  otherwise  destroyed  every  one  of  them, 
and  during  the  whole  of  our  journey  after 
we  never  heard  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  nor 
did  any  wild  beast  presume  to  make  an- 
other attack  upon  our  party,  which  shows 
the  excellence  of  immediate  presence  of 
mind,  and  the  terror  inspired  into  the 
most  savage  enemies  by  a  proper  and  well- 
timed  proceeding. 

We  at  length  arrived  on  the  confines  of 
an  immeasurable  desert — an  immense 
plain,  extending  on  every  side  of  us  like 
an  ocean.  Not  a  tree,  nor  a  shrub,  nor  a 
blade  of  grass  was  to  be  seen,  but  all  ap- 
peared an  extreme  fine  sand,  mixed  with 
gold-dust  and  little  sparkling  pearls. 

The  gold-dust  and  pearls  appeared  to 
us  of  little  value,  because  we  could  have 
no  expectation  of  returning  to  England 
for  a  considerable  time.  We  observed,  at 
a  great  distance,  something  like  a  smoke 
arising  just  over  the  verge  of  the  horizon, 
and  looking  with  our  telescopes  we  per- 
ceived it  to  be  a  whirlwind  tearing  up  the 
sand  and  tossing  it  about  in  the  heavens 
with  frightful  impetuosity.  I  immediately 
ordered  my  company  to  erect  a  mound 
around  us  of  a  great  size,  which  we  did 
with  astonishing  labor  and  perseverance, 
and  then  roofed  it  over  with  certain  planks 
and  timber,  which  we  had  with  us  for  the 
purpose.  Our  labor  was  scarcely  finished 
when  the  sand  came  rolling  in  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea ;  't  was  a  storm  and  river 
of  sand  united.  It  continued  to  advance 
in  the  same  direction,  without  intermis- 
sion, for  three  days,  and  completely 
covered  over  the  mound  we  had  erected, 
and  buried  us  all  within.  The  intense 
heat  of  the  place  was  intolerable;  but 
guessing,  by  the  cessation  of  the  noise,  that 
the  storm  was  passed,  we  set  about  digging 
a  passage  to  the  light  of  day  again,  which 
we  effected  in  a  very  short  time,  and 
ascending,  perceived  that  the  whole  had 
been  so  completely  covered  with  the  sand 
that  there  appeared  no  hills,  but  one  con- 
tinued plain,  with  inequalities  or  ridges 
on  it  like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  We  soon 
extricated  our  vehicle  and  retinue  from 
burning  sands,  but  not  without  great 
danger,  as  the  heat  was  very  violent,  and 
began  to  proceed  on  our  voyage.  Storms 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


235 


of  sand  of  a  similar  nature  several  times 
attacked  us,  but  by  using  the  same  pre- 
cautions we  preserved  ourselves  repeatedly 
from  destruction.  Having  travelled  more 
than  nine  thousand  miles  over  this  in- 
hospitable plain,  exposed  to  the  perpendi- 
cular rays  of  a  burning  sun,  without  ever 
meeting  a  rivulet,  or  a  shower  from  heaven 
to  refresh  us,  we  at  length  became  almost 
desperate,  when,  to  our  inexpressible  joy, 
we  beheld  some  mountains  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, and  on  our  nearer  approach  ob- 
served them  covered  with  a  carpet  of 
verdure  and  groves  and  woods.  Nothing 
could  appear  more  romantic  or  beautiful 
than  the  rocks  and  precipices  intermingled 
with  flowers  and  shrubs  of  every  kind, 
and  palm-trees  of  such  a  prodigious  size 
as  to  surpass  anything  ever  seen  in  Europe. 
Fruits  of  all  kinds  appeared  growing  wild 
m  the  utmost  abundance,  and  antelopes 
and  sheep  and  buffaloes  wandered  about 
the  groves  and  valleys  in  profusion.  The 
trees  resounded  with  the  melody  of  birds, 
and  everything  displayed  a  general  scene 
of  rural  happiness  and  joy. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A  FEAST  ON  LIVE  BULLS  AND  KAVA— THE 
NATIVES  ADMIRE  THE  EUROPEAN  ADVEN- 
TURERS— THE  EMPEROR  COMES  TO  MEET 
THE  BARON,  AND  PAYS  HIM  GREAT  COMPLI- 
MENTS—THE INHABITANTS  OF  THE  CENTRE 
OF  AFRICA  DESCENDED  FROM  THE  PEOPLE 
OF  THE  MOON,  PROVED  BY  AN  INSCRIPTION 
IN  AFRICA,  AND  BY  THE  ANALOGY  OF 
THEIR  LANGUAGE,  WHICH  IS  ALSO  THE 
SAME  WITH  THAT  OF  THE  ANCIENT  SCYTH- 
IANS—THE BARON  IS  DECLARED  SOVE- 
REIGN OF  THE  INTERIOR  OF  AFRICA  ON 
THE  DECEASE  OF  THE  EMPEROR — HE  EN- 
DEAVORS TO  ABOLISH  THE  CUSTOM  OF  EAT- 
ING LIVE  BULLS,  WHICH  EXCITES  MUCH 
DISCONTENT  —  THE  ADVICE  OF  HILARO 

FROSTICOS     UPON     THE     OCCASION THE 

BARON  MAKES  A  SPEECH  TO  AN  ASSEMBLY 
OF  THE  STATES,  WHICH  ONLY  EXCITES 
GREATER  MURMURS— HE  CONSULTS  WITH 
HILARO  FROSTICOS. 

HAVING  passed  over  the  nearest  moun- 
tains, we  entered  a  delightful  vale,  where 
we  perceived  a  multitude  of  persons  at  a 
feast  of  living  bulls,  whose  flesh  they  cut 
away  with  great  knives,  making  a  table 
of  the  creature's  carcass,  serenaded  by  the 
bellowing  of  the  unfortunate  animal. 
Nothing  seemed  requisite  to  add  to  the 


barbarity  of  this  feast  but  kava,  made  as 
described  in  Cook's  voyages,  and  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  feast  we  perceived  them 
brewing  this  liquor,  which  they  drank 
with  the  utmost  avidity.  From  that  mo- 
ment, inspired  with  an  idea  of  universal 
benevolence,  I  determined  to  abolish  the 
custom  of  eating  live  flesh  and  drinking 
of  kava.  But  I  knew  that  such  a  thing 
could  not  be  immediately  effected,  what- 
ever in  future  time  might  be  performed. 

Having  rested  ourselves  during  a  few 
days,  we  determined  to  set  out  towards 
the  principal  city  of  the  empire.  The 
singularity  of  our  appearance  was  spoken 
of  all  over  the  country  as  a  phenomenon. 
The  multitude  looked  upon  Sphinx,  the 
bulls,  the  crickets,  the  balloons,  and  the 
whole  company  as  something  more  than 
terrestrial,  but  especially  the  thunder  of 
our  fire-arms,  which  struck  horror  and 
amazement  into  the  whole  nation. 

We  at  length  arrived  at  the  metropolis, 
situated  on  the  banks  of  a  noble  river, 
and  the  emperor,  attended  by  all  his 
court,  came  out  in  grand  procession  to 
meet  us.  The  emperor  appeared  mounted 
on  a  dromedary,  royally  caparisoned,  with 
all  his  attendants  on  foot,  through  respect 
for  his  majesty.  He  was  rather  above  the 
middle  stature  of  that  country,  four  feet 
three  inches  in  height,  with  a  counte- 
nance, like  all  his  countrymen,  as  white  as 
snow !  He  was  preceded  by  a  band  of 
most  exquisite  music,  according  to  the 
fashion  of  the  country,  and  his  whole  reti- 
nue halted  within  about  fifty  paces  of  our 
troop.  We  returned  the  salute  by  a  dis- 
charge of  musketry  and  a  flourish  of  our 
trumpets  and  martial  music.  I  com- 
manded our  caravan  to  halt,  and,  dis- 
mounting, advanced  uncovered,  with  only 
two  attendants,  towards  his  majesty.  The 
emperor  was  equally  polite,  and  descend- 
ing from  his  dromedary,  advanced  to  meet 
me.  "  I  am  happy,"  said  he,  "  to  have 
the  honor  to  receive  so  illustrious  a  tra- 
veller, and  assure  you  that  everything  in 
my  empire  shall  be  at  your  disposal." 

I  thanked  his  majesty  for  his  polite- 
ness, and  expressed  how  happy  I  was  to 
meet  so  polished  and  refined  a  people  in 
the  centre  of  Africa,  and  that  I  hoped  to 
show  myself  and  company  grateful  for  his 
esteem  by  introducing  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences of  Europe  among  the  people. 

I  immediately  perceived  the  true  descent 
of  this  people,  which  does  not  appear  of 


236 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


terrestrial  origin,  but  descended  from  some 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Moon,  because 
the  principal  language  spoken  there,  and 
in  the  centre  of  Africa,  is  very  nearly  the 
same.  Their  alphabet  and  method  of 
writing  are  pretty  much  the  same,  and 
show  the  extreme  antiquity  of  this  people, 
and  their  exalted  origin.  I  here  give  you 
a  specimen  of  their  writing  :  Sregnah  dna 
skoohtop.  These  characters  I  have  sub- 
mitted to  the  inspection  of  a  celebrated 
antiquarian,  and  it  will  be  proved  to  the 
satisfaction  of  every  one  in  his  next  vol- 
ume, what  an  immediate  intercourse  there 
must  have  been  between  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Moon  and  the  ancient  Scythians, 
which  Scythians  did  not  by  any  means 
inhabit  a  part  of  Kussia,  but  the  central 
part  of  Africa,  as  I  can  abundantly  prove 
to  my  very  learned  and  laborious  friend. 
The  meaning  of  the  above  words  is,  The 
Scythians  are  of  heavenly  origin.  The  word 
Sregnah,  which  signifies  Scythians,  is  com- 
pounded of  sreg  or  sre,  whence  our  present 
English  word  sire,  or  sir  :  and  nah,  or  gnah, 
knowledge,  because  the  Scythians  united 
the  essentials  of  nobility  and  learning  toge- 
ther:  dna  signifies  heaven,  or  belonging  to 
the  Moon,  from  duna,  who  was  anciently 
worshipped  as  goddess  of  that  luminary. 
And  skoohtop  signifies  the  origin  or  begin- 
ning of  anything  from  skoo,  the  name  used 
in  the  Moon  for  a  point  in  geometry,  and  top 
or  htop,  vegetation.  These  words  are  in- 
scribed at  this  day  upon  a  pyramid  in  the 
centre  of  Africa,  nearly  at  the  source  of 
the  river  Niger ;  and  if  any  one  refuses 
his  assent,  he  may  go  there  to  be  con- 
vinced. 

The  emperor  conducted  me  to  his  court 
amidst  the  admiration  of  his  courtiers, 
and  paid  us  every  possible  politeness  that 
African  magnificence  could  bestow.  He 
never  presumed  to  proceed  on  any  expe- 
dition without  consulting  us,  and  looking 
upon  us  as  a  species  of  superior  beings, 
paid  the  greatest  respect  to  our  opinions. 
He  frequently  asked  me  about  the  states 
of  Europe,  and  the  kingdom  of  Great 
Britain,  and  appeared  lost  in  admiration 
at  the  account  I  gave  him  of  our  ship- 
ping, and  the  immensity  of  the  ocean. 
We  taught  him  to  regulate  the  govern- 
ment nearly  on  the  same  plan  with  the 
British  constitution,  and  to  institute  a 
parliament  and  degrees  of  nobility.  His 
majesty  was  the  last  of  his  royal  line,  and 
on  his  decease,  with  the  unanimous  con- 


sent of  the  people,  made  me  heir  to  the 
whole  empire.  The  nobility  and  chiefs 
of  the  country  immediately  waited  upon 
me  with  petitions,  entreating  me  to  ac- 
cept the  government.  I  consulted  with  my 
noble  friends,  Gog  arid  Magog,  etc.,  and 
after  much  consultation  it  was  agreed  that  I 
should  accept  the  government,  not  as  ac- 
tual and  independent  monarch  of  the  place^ 
but  as  viceroy  to  his  majesty  of  England. 

I  now  thought  it  high  time  to  do  away 
the  custom  of  eating  of  live  flesh  and 
drinking  of  kava,  and  for  that  purpose 
used  every  persuasive  method  to  wean 
the  majority  of  the  people  from  it.  This, 
to  my  astonishment,  was  not  taken  in  good 
part  by  the  nation,  and  they  looked  with 
jealousy  at  those  strangers  who  wanted  to 
make  innovations  among  them. 

Nevertheless,  I  felt  much  concern  to 
think  that  my  fellow-creatures  could  be 
capable  of  such  barbarity.  I  did  every- 
thing that  a  heart  fraught  with  universal 
benevolence  and  good-will  to  all  mankind 
could  be  capable  of  desiring.  I  first  tried 
every  method  of  persuasion  and  incite- 
ment. I  did  not  harshly  reprove  them,  but 
I  invited  frequently  whole  thousands  to 
dine,  after  the  fashion  of  Europe,  upon 
roasted  meat.  Alas,  't  was  all  in  vain  !  my 
goodness  nearly  excited  a  sedition.  They 
murmured  among  themselves,  spoke  of 
my  intentions,  my  wild  and  ambitious 
views,  as  if  I,  O  heaven  !  could  have  had 
any  personal  interested  motive  in  making 
them  live  like  men,  rather  than  like  croco- 
diles and  tigers.  In  fine,  perceiving  that 
gentleness  could  be  of  no  avail,  well  know- 
ing that  when  complaisance  can  effect 
nothing  from  some  spirits,  compulsion  ex- 
cites respect  and  veneration,  I  prohibited, 
under  the  pain  of  the  severest  penalties, 
the  drinking  of  kava,  or  eating  of  live 
flesh,  for  the  space  of  nine  days,  within  the 
districts  of  Angaliner  and  Paphagalna. 

But  this  created  such  an  universal  ab- 
horrence and  detestation  of  my  govern- 
ment, that  my  ministers,  and  even  myself, 
were  universally  pasquinaded  ;  lampoons, 
satires,  ridicule,  and  insult  were  showered 
upon  the  name  of  Munchausen  wherever 
it  was  mentioned;  and, in  fine,  there  never 
was  a  government  so  much  detested,  or 
with  such  little  reason. 

In  this  dilemma  I  had  recourse  to  the 
advice  of  my  noble  friend,  Hilaro  Frosti- 
cos.  In  his  good  sense  I  now  expected 
some  resource,  for  the  rest  of  the  council, 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


237 


who  had  advised  me  to  the  former  method, 
had  given  but  a  poor  specimen  of  their 
abilities  and  discernment,  or  I  should 
have  succeeded  more  happily.  In  short, 
he  addressed  himself  to  me  and  to  the 
council  as  follows : 

"  It  is  in  vain,  most  noble  Munchausen, 
that  your  Excellency  endeavors  to  compel 
or  force  these  people  to  a  life  to  which 
they  have  never  been  accustomed.  In 
vain  do  you  tell  them  that  apple-pies, 
pudding,  roast  beef,  minced  pies,  or  tarts, 
are  delicious,  that  sugar  is  sweet,  that 
wine  is  exquisite.  Alas !  they  cannot, 
they  will  not  comprehend  what  deli- 
ciousness  is,  what  sweetness,  or  what  the 
flavor  of  the  grape.  And  even  if  they 
were  convinced  of  the  superior  excellence 
of  your  way  of  life,  never,  never  would 
they  be  persuaded ;  and  that,  if  for  no 
other  reason,  but  because  force  or  persua- 
sion is  employed  to  induce  them  to  it. 
Abandon  that  idea  for  the  present,  and  let 
us  try  another  method.  My  opinion,  there- 
fore, is  that  we  should  at  once  cease  all 
endeavors  to  compel  or  persuade  them. 
But  let  us,  if  possible,  procure  a  quantity  of 
fudge  from  England,  and  carelessly  scat- 
ter it  over  all  the  country  ;  and  from  this 
disposal  of  matters  I  presume — nay,  I  have 
a  moral  certainty,  that  we  shall  reclaim 
this  people  from  horror  and  barbarity." 

Had  this  been  proposed  at  any  other 
time,  it  would  have  been  violently  op- 
posed in  the  council ;  but  now,  when  every 
other  attempt  had  failed,  when  there  seem- 
ed no  other  resource,  the  majority  willingly 
submitted  to  they  knew  not  what,  for  they 
absolutely  had  no  idea  of  the  manner,  the 
possibility  of  success,  or  how  they  could 
bring  matters  to  bear.  However,  't  was  a 
scheme,  and  as  such  they  submitted.  For 
my  part,  I  listened  with  ecstacy  to  the 
words  of  Hilaro  Frosticos,  for  I  knew  that 
he  had  a  most  singular  knowledge  of  hu- 
man kind,  and  could  humor  and  persuade 
them  on  to  their  own  happiness  and 
universal  good.  Therefore,  according  to 
the  advice  of  Hilaro,  1  despatched  a  bal- 
loon with  four  men  over  the  desert  to  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  with  letters  to  be  for- 
warded to  England,  requiring,  without 
delay,  a  few  cargoes  of  fudge. 

The  people  had  all  this  time  remained 
in  a  general  state  of  ferment  and  murmur. 
Everything  that  rancor,  low  wit,  and  de- 
plorable ignorance  could  conceive  to 
asperse  my  government,  was  put  in  exe- 


cution. The  most  worthy,  even  the  most 
beneficent  actions,  everything  that  was 
amiable,  were  perverted  into  opposition. 

The  heart  of  Munchausen  was  not  made 
of  such  impenetrable  stuff  as  to  be  insen- 
sible to  the  hatred  of  even  the  most  worth- 
less wretch  in  the  whole  kingdom ;  and 
once,  at  a  general  assembly  of  the  states, 
filled  with  an  idea  of  such  continued  in- 
gratitude, I  spoke  as  pathetic  as  possible, 
not,  methought,  beneath  my  dignity,  to 
make  them  feel  for  me :  that  the  univer- 
sal good  and  happiness  of  the  people 
were  all  I  wished  or  desired  :  that  if  my 
actions  had  been  mistaken,  or  improper 
surmises  formed,  still  I  had  no  wish,  no 
desire  but  the  public  welfare,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Hilaro  Frosticos  was  all  this  time  much 
disturbed ;  he  looked  sternly  at  me — he 
frowned,  but  I  was  so  engrossed  with  the 
warmth  of  my  heart,  my  intentions,  that 
I  understood  him  not :  in  a  minute  I  saw 
nothing  but  as  if  through  a  cloud  (such 
is  the  force  of  amiable  sensibility) — lords, 
ladies,  chiefs — the  whole  assembly  seemeu 
to  swim  before  my  sight.  The  more  I 
thought  on  my  good  intentions,  the  lam- 
poons which  so  much  affected  my  delicacy, 
good  nature,  tenderness — I  forgot  myself— 
I  spoke  rapid,  violent — beneficence — fire 
— tenderness — alas !  I  melted  into  tears ! 

"  Pish  I  pish  !"  said  Hilaro  Frosticos. 

Now,  indeed,  was  my  government  lam- 
pooned, satirized,  carribonadoed,  bepic- 
kled,  and  bedevilled.  One  day,  with  my 
arm  full  of  lampoons,  I  started  up  as  Hi- 
laro entered  the  room,  the  tears  in  my 
eyes  :  "  Look,  look  here,  Hilaro ! — how 
can  I  bear  all  this  ?  It  is  impossible  to 
please  them  ;  I  will  leave  the  government 
— I  cannot  bear  it!  See  what  pitiful 
anecdotes — what  surmises:  I  will  make 
my  people  feel  for  me — I  will  leave  the 
government ! " 

"  Pshaw  I  "  says  Hilaro.  At  that  simple 
monosyllable  I  found  myself  changed  as 
if  by  magic !  for  I  ever  looked  on  Hilaro 
as  a  person  so  experienced — such  forti- 
tude, such  good  sense.  "  There  are  three 
sail,  under  the  convoy  of  a  frigate,"  added 
Hilaro,  "just  arrived  at  the  Cape,  after  a 
fortunate  passage,  laden  with  the  fudge 
that  we  demanded.  No  time  is  to  be  lost ; 
let  it  be  immediately  conducted  hither, 
and  distributed  through  the  principal 
granaries  of  the  empire." 


238 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTUEES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

A  PROCLAMATION  BY  THE  BARON — EXCES- 
SIVE CURIOSITY  OF  THE  PEOPLE  TO  KNOW 
WHAT  FUDGE  WAS  —  THE  PEOPLE  IN  A 

GENERAL      FERMENT     ABOUT     IT THEY 

BREAK  OPEN  ALL  THE  GRANARIES  IN  THE 
EMPIRE — THE  AFFECTIONS  OF  THE  PEOPLE 
CONCILIATED  —  AN  ODE  PERFORMED  IN 
HONOR  OF  THE  BARON  —  HIS  DISCOURSE 
WITH  FRAGRANTIA  ON  THE  EXCELLENCE 
OF  THE  MUSIC. 

SOME  time  after  I  ordered  the  following 
proclamation  to  be  published  in  the  Court 
Gazette,  and  in  all  the  other  papers  of  the 
empire  : 

BY  THE  MOST  MIGHTY    AND    PUISSANT    LORD, 
HIS  EXCELLENCY  THE 

LORD  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 

WHEREAS  a  quantity  of  fudge  has  been 
distributed  through  all  the  granaries  of  the 
empire  for  particular  uses  ;  and  as  the  na 
tives  have  ever  expressed  their  aversion  to 
all  manner  of  European  eatables,  it  is  here- 
by strictly  forbidden,  under  pain  of  the  sever- 
est penalties,  for  any  of  the  officers  charged 
with  the  keeping  of  the  said  fudge,  to  give, 
sell,  or  suffer  to  be  sold,  any  part  or  quan- 
tity whatever  of  the  said  material,  until  it 
be  agreeable  unto  our  good  will  and  pleas- 
ure. MUNCHAUSEN. 

Dated  in  our  Castle  of  Gristariska, 
this  Triskill  of  the  month  of 
Griskish,  in  the  year  Moulikas- 
ranavas-kashna-vildash. 

This  proclamation  excited  the  most 
ardent  curiosity  all  over  the  empire.  "  Do 
you  know  what  this  fudge  is  ?"  said  Lady 
Mooshilgarousti  to  Lord  Darnarlaganl. 
"Fudge!"  said  he,  "fudge!  no:  what 
fudge  ?"  "  I  mean,"  replied  her  ladyship, 
u  the  enormous  quantity  of  fudge  that  has 
been  distributed  under  guards  in  all  the 
strong  places  in  the  empire,  and  which  is 
strictly  forbidden  to  be  sold  or  given  to 
any  of  the  natives  under  the  severest 
penalties."  "  Lord  !"  replied  he,  "  what 
in  the  name  of  wonder  can  it  be?  For- 
bidden !  why  it  must,  but  pray  do  you, 
Lady  Fashashash,  do  you  know  what  this 
fudge  is  ?  Do  you,  Lord  Trastillauex  ?  or 
you,  Miss  Gristilarkask?  What!  nobody 
know  what  this  fudge  can  be?" 


It  engrossed  for  several  clays  the  chit- 
chat of  the  whole  empire.  Fudge,  fudge, 
fudge,  resounded  in  all  companies  and  in 
all  places,  from  the  rising  until  the  setting 
of  the  sun ;  and  even  at  night,  when  gentle 
sleep  refreshed  the  rest  of  mortals,  the  la- 
dies of  all  that  country  were  dreaming  of 
fudge  1 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  Kitty,  as  she 
was  adjusting  her  modesty  piece  before 
the  glass,  just  after  getting  out  of  bed, 
"there  is  scarce  anything  I  would  not 
give  to  know  what  this  fudge  can  be." 
"  La !  my  dear,"  replied  Miss  Killnariska, 
"  I  have  been  dreaming  the  whole  night  of 
nothing  but  fudge ;  I  thought  my  lover 
kissed  my  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  his  bo- 
som, while  I,  frowning,  endeavored  to 
wrest  it  from  him  :  that  he  kneeled  at  my 
feet.  No,  never,  never  will  I  look  at  you, 
cried  I,  till  you  tell  me  what  this  fudge 
can  be,  or  get  me  some  of  it.  Begone! 
cried  I,  with  all  the  dignity  of  offended 
beauty,  majesty,  and  a  tragic  queen.  Be- 
gone !  never  see  me  more,  or  bring  me  this 
delicious  fudge.  He  swore  on  the  honor 
of  a  knight,  that  he  would  wander  o'er  the 
world,  encounter  every  danger,  perish  in 
the  attempt,  or  satisfy  the  angel  of  his 
soul  1" 

The  chiefs  and  nobility  of  the  nation, 
when  they  met  together  to  drink  their 
kava,  spoke  of  nothing  but  fudge.  Men, 
women,  and  children,  all,  all  talked  of 
nothing  but  fudge.  'T  was  a  fury  of  curi- 
osity, one  general  ferment,  an  universal 
fever — nothing  but  fudge  could  allay  it. 

But  in  one  respect  they  all  agreed,  that 
government  must  have  had  some  interested 
view  in  giving  such  positive  orders  to 
preserve  it,  and  keep  it  from  the  natives  of 
the  country.  Petitions  were  addressed  to 
me  from  all  quarters,  from  every  corpora- 
tion and  body  of  men  in  the  whole 
empire.  The  majority  of  the  people 
instructed  their  constituents,  and  the 
parliament  presented  a  petition,  praying 
that  I  would  be  pleased  to  take  the  state 
of  the  nation  under  consideration,  and 

e  orders  to  satisfy  the  people,  or  the 
most  dreadful  consequences  were  to  be  ap- 
prehended. To  these  requests,  at  the 
ntreaty  of  my  council,  I  made  no  reply, 
or  at  best  but  unsatisfactory  answers. 
Curiosity  was  on  the  rack ;  they  forgot  to 
.ampoon  the  government,  so  engaged 
ivere  they  about  the  fudge.  The  great 
assembly  of  the  States  could  think  of 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


239 


nothing  else.  Instead  ot'  enacting  laws 
for  the  regulation  of  the  people,  instead 
of  consulting  what  should  seem  most  wise, 
most  excellent,  they  could  think,  talk, 
and  harangue  of  nothing  but  fudge.  In 
vain  did  the  Speaker  call  to  order ;  the 
more  checks  they  got  the  more  extrava- 
gant and  inquisitive  they  were. 

In  short,  the  populace  in  many  places 
rose  in  the  most  outrageous  and  tumultu- 
ous manner,  forced  open  the  granaries  in 
all  places  in  one  day,  and  triumphantly 
distributed  the  fudge  through  the  whole 
empire. 

Whether  on  account  of  the  longing,  the 
great  curiosity,  imagination  or  the  dis- 
position of  the  people,  I  cannot  say,  but 
they  found  it  infinitely  to  their  taste ; 
'twas  an  intoxication  of  joy,  satisfaction, 
and  applause. 

Finding  how  much  they  liked  this 
fudge,  I  procured  another  quantity  from 
England,  much  greater  than  the  former, 
and  cautiously  bestowed  it  over  all  the 
kingdom.  Thus  were  the  affections  of  the 
people  regained:  and  they,  from  hence, 
began  to  venerate,  applaud,  and  admire 
my  government  more  than  ever.  The 
following  ode  was  performed  at  the  castle, 
in  the  most  superb  style,  and  universally 
admired : 

ODE. 

"  Ye  bulls  and  crickets,  and  Gog,  Magog, 
And  trump'ts  high  chiming  anthrophog, 
Come  sing  blithe  choral  all  in  og, 
Caralog,  basilog,  fog,  and  bog  1 

Great  and  superb  appears  thy  cap  sublime, 
Admired  and  worshipp'd  as  the  rising 
sun; 

Solemn,  majestic,  wise,  like  hoary  Time, 
And  fam'd  alike  for  virtue,  sense,  and  fun. 

Then  swell  the  noble  strain  with  song, 

And  elegance  divine, 
While  goddesses  around  shall  throng, 

And  all  the  muses  nine. 

And  bulls  and  crickets,  and  Gog,  Magog, 
And  trumpets  chiming  anthrophog, 
Shall  sing  blithe  choral  all  in  og, 
Caralog,  basilog,  fog,  and  bog. 

This  piece  of  poetry  was  much  ap- 
plauded, admired,  and  encored  in  every 
public  assembly,  celebrated  as  an  astonish- 
ing effort  of  genius ;  and  the  music,  com- 


posed by  Mynheer  Gastrashbark  Gkrghh- 
barwskhk,  was  thought  equal  to  the  sense  ! 
Never  was  there  anything  so  universally 
admired,  the  summit  of  the  most  exquisite 
wit,  the  keenest  praise,  the  most  excellent 
music. 

"  Upon  my  honor,  and  the  faith  I  owe 
my  love,"  said  I,  "  music  may  be  talked 
of  in  England,  but  to  possess  the  very 
soul  of  harmony  the  world  should  come  to 
the  performance  of  this  ode."  Lady 
Fragrantia  was  at  that  moment  drumming 
with  her  fingers  on  the  edge  of  her  fan, 
lost  in  a  reverie,  thinking  she  was  play- 
ing upon Was  it  a  forte  piano? 

"No,  my  dear  Fragrantia,"  said  I, 
tenderly  taking  her  in  my  arms  while  she 
melted  into  tears ;  "  never,  never,  will  I 
play  upon  any  other !  " 

Oh  !  't  was  divine,  to  see  her  like  a  sum- 
mer's morning,  all  blushing  and  full  of 
dew ! 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE  BARON  SETS  ALL  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE 
EMPIBE  TO  WORK  TO  BUILD  A  BRIDGE  FROM 
THEIR  COUNTRY  TO  GREAT  BRITAIN — HIS 
CONTRIVANCE  TO  RENDER  THE  ARCH  SE- 
CURE— ORDERS  AN  INSCRIPTION  TO  BE  EN- 
GRAVED ON  THE  BRIDGE — RETURNS  WITH 
ALL  HIS  COMPANY,  CHARIOT,  ETC.,  TO 
ENGLAND — SURVEYS  THE  KINGDOMS  AND 
NATIONS  UNDER  HIM  FROM  THE  MIDDLE  OF 
THE  BRIDGE. 

"AND  now,  most  noble  Baron,"  said 
the  illustrious  Hilaro  Frosticos,  "  now  is 
the  time  to  make  this  people  proceed  in 
any  business  that  we  find  convenient. 
Take  them  at  this  present  ferment  of  the 
mind,  let  them  not  think,  but  at  once  set 
them  to  work."  In  short,  the  whole 
nation  went  heartily  to  the  business,  to 
build  an  edifice  such  as  was  never  seen  in 
any  other  country.  I  took  care  to  supply 
them  with  their  favorite  kava  and  fudge, 
and  they  worked  like  horses.  The  Tower 
of  Babylon,  which,  according  to  Hermo- 
gastricus,  was  seven  miles  high,  or  the 
Chinese  wall,  was  a  mere  trifle,  in  com- 
parison to  this  stupendous  edifice,  which 
was  completed  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time. 

It  was  of  an  immense  height,  far  beyond 
anything  that  ever  had  been  before  erected 
and  of  such  gentle  ascent,  that  a  regiment 
of  cavalry  with  a  train  of  cannon  could 


240 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON   MUNCHAUSEN. 


ascend  with  perfect  ease  and  facility.  It 
seemed  like  a  rainbow  in  the  heavens,  the 
base  of  which  appeared  to  rise  in  the 
centre  of  Africa,  and  the  other  extremity 
stoop  into  Great  Britain.  A  most  noble 
bridge  indeed,  and  a  piece  of  masonry 
that  has  outdone  Sir  Christopher  Wren. 
Wonderful  must  it  have  been  to  form  so 
tremendous  an  arch,  especially  as  the 
artists  had  certain  difficulties  to  labor 
against  which  they  could  not  have  in  the 
formation  of  any  other  arch  in  the  world 
—  I  mean,  the  attraction  of  the  Moon  and 
planets  :  Because  the  arch  was  of  so  great 
a  height,  and  in  some  parts  so  elongated 
from  the  earth,  as  in  a  great  measure  to 
diminish  in  its  gravitation  to  the  centre 
of  our  globe;  or,  rather,  seemed  more 
easily  operated  upon  by  the  attraction  of 
the  planets  ;  so  that  the  stones  of  the  arch, 
one  would  think  at  certain  times,  were 
ready  to  fall  up  to  the  Moon  and  at  other 
times  to  fall  down  to  the  Earth.  But  as 
the  former  was  more  to  be  dreaded,  I  se- 
cured stability  to  the  fabric  by  a  curious 
contrivance;  I  ordered  the  architects  to 
get  the  heads  of  some  hundred  numb- 
sculls  and  blockheads,  and  fix  them  to  the 
interior  surface  of  the  arch  at  certain  in- 
tervals, all  the  whole  length,  by  which 
means  the  arch  was  held  together  firm, 
and  its  inclination  to  the  earth  eternally 
established ;  because  of  all  the  things  in 
the  world,  the  skulls  of  these  kind  of  ani- 
mals have  a  strange  facility  of  tending  to 
the  centre  of  the  earth. 

The  building  being  completed,  I  caused 
an  inscription  to  be  engraved  in  the  most 
magnificent  style  upon  the  summit  of  the 
arch,  in  letters  so  great  and  luminous  that 
all  vessels  sailing  to  the  East  or  West 
Indies  might  read  them  distinct  in  the 
heavens,  like  the  motto  of  Constantino : 

KARDOL  BAGARLAN  KAI  TON  FARINGO 
SARQAL  RA  MO  PASHROL  VATINEAC  CAL 
COLNITOS  RO  NA  FILNAT  AGASTRA  8A 
DINGANNAL  FANO. 

That  is  to  say,  "  As  long  as  this  arch 
and  bond  of  union  shall  exist,  so  long 
shall  the  people  be  happy.  Nor  can  all 
the  power  of  the  world  affect  them,  unless 
the  Moon,  advancing  from  her  usual 
sphere,  should  so  much  attract  the  skulls 
as  to  cause  a  sudden  elevation,  on  which 
the  whole  will  fall  into  the  most  horrible 
confusion." 


An  easy  intercourse  being  thus  estab- 
lished between  Great  Britain  and  the 
centre  of  Africa,  numbers  travelled  con- 
tinually to  and  from  both  countries,  and 
at  my  request  mail  coaches  were  ordered 
to  run  on  the  bridge  between  both  em- 
pires. After  some  time,  having  settled 
the  government  perfectly  to  my  satisfac- 
tion, I  requested  permission  to  resign,  as 
a  great  cabal  had  been  excited  against  me 
in  England;  I,  therefore,  received  my 
letters  of  recall,  and  prepared  to  return  to 
Old  England. 

In  fine,  I  set  out  upon  my  journey,  cover- 
ed with  applause  and  general  admiration. 
I  proceeded  with  the  same  retinue  that  I 
had  before, — Sphinx,  Gog  and  Magog, 
etc.,  and  advanced  along  the  bridge,  lined 
on  each  side  with  rows  of  trees,  adorned 
with  festoons  of  various  flowers,  and  illu- 
minated with  colored  lights.  We  ad- 
vanced at  a  great  rate  along  the  bridge, 
which  was  so  very  extensive  that  we  could 
scarcely  perceive  the  ascent,  but  proceeded 
insensibly  until  we  arrived  on;  the  centre 
of  the  arch.  The  view  from  thence  was 
glorious  beyond  conception ;  *t  was  divine 
to  look  down  on  the  kingdoms  and  seas 
and  islands  under  us.  Africa  seemed  in 
general  of  a  tawny  brownish  color,  burned 
up  by  the  sun :  Spain  seemed  more  in- 
clining to  a  yellow,  on  account  of  some 
fields  of  corn  scattered  over  the  kingdom  ; 
France  appeared  more  inclining  to  a  bright 
straw-color,  intermixed  with  green ;  and 
England  appeared  covered  with  the  most 
beautiful  verdure.  I  admired  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Baltic  Sea,  which  evidently 
seemed  to  have  been  introduced  between 
those  countries  by  the  sudden  splitting  of 
the  land,  and  that  originally  Sweden  was 
united  to  the  western  coast  of  Demark  ;  in 
short,  the  whole  interstice  of  the  Gulf  of 
Finland  had  no  being  until  these  countries, 
by  mutual  consent,  separated  from  one 
another.  Such  were  my  philosophical 
meditations  as  I  advanced,  when  I  ob- 
served a  man  in  armor,  with  a  tremen- 
dous spear  or  lance,  and  mounted  upon  a 
steed,  advancing  against  me.  I  soon  dis- 
covered by  a  telescope  that  it  could  be  no 
other  than  Don  Quixote,  and  promised 
myself  much  amusement  in  the  rencounter. 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


241 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  BARON'S  RETINUE  is  OPPOSED  IN  A 
HEROIC  STYLE  BY  DON  QUIXOTE,  WHO  IN 
HIS  TURN  IS  ATTACKED  BY  GOG  AND  MAGOG 
— LORD  WHITTINGTON,  WITH  THE  LORD 
MAYOR'S  SHOW,  COMES  TO  THE  ASSISTANCE 
OF  DON  QUIXOTE — GOG  AND  MAGOG  ASSAIL 
HIS  LORDSHIP — LORD  WHITTINGTON  MAKES 
A  SPEECH,  AND  DELUDES  GOG  AND  MAGOG 
TO  HIS  PARTY — A  GENERAL  SCENE  OF  UP- 
ROAR AND  BATTLE  AMONG  THE  COMPANY, 
UNTIL  THE  BARON,  WITH  GREAT  PRESENCE 
OF  MIND,  APPEASES  THE  TUMULT. 

"  WHAT  art  thou  ?"  exclaimed  Don 
Quixote,  on  his  potent  steed.  "  Who  art 
thou?  Speak!  or,  by  the  eternal  ven- 
geance of  mine  arm,  thy  whole  machinery 
•hall  perish  at  sound  of  this  my  trumpet !" 

Astonished  at  so  rude  a  salutation,  the 
great  Sphinx  stopped  short,  and  bridling 
up  herself,  drew  in  her  head,  like  a  snail, 
when  it  touches  something  that  it  does  not 
like  :  the  bulls  set  up  a  horrid  bellowing, 
the  crickets  sounded  an  alarm,  and  Gog 
and  Magog  advanced  before  the  rest. 
One  of  these  powerful  brothers  had  in  his 
hand  a  great  pole,  to  the  extremity  of 
which  was  fastened  a  cord  of  about  two 
feet  in  length,  and  to  the  end  of  the  cord 
was  fastened  a  ball  of  iron,  with  spikes 
shooting  from  it  like  the  rays  of  a  star ; 
with  this  weapon  he  prepared  to  encounter, 
and  advancing  thus  he  spoke : 

"  Audacious  wight !  that  thus,  in  com- 
plete steel  arrayed,  doth  dare  to  venture 
cross  my  way,  to  stop  the  great  Mun- 
chausen  1  Know  then,  proud  knight,  that 
thou  shalt  instant  perish  'neath  my  potent 
arm." 

When  Quixote,  Mancha's  knight,  re- 
sponded firm : 

"  Gigantic  monster !  leader  of  witches, 
crickets,  and  chimeras  dire!  know  thou 
that  here  before  yon  azure  heaven  the 
cause  of  truth,  of  valor,  and  of  faith  right 
pure  shall  ordeal  counter  try  it !" 

Thus  he  spoke,  and  brandishing  his 
mighty  spear,  would  instant  prodigies 
sublime  performed,  had  not  some  wight 
placed  'neath  the  tail  of  dark  Rosinante 
furze  all  thorny  base :  at  which,  quad- 
rupedanting,  plunged  the  steed,  and  in- 
stant on  the  earth  the  knight  roared  credo 
for  his  life. 

At  that    same  moment  ten  thousand 

frogs  started  from  the  morions  of  Gog  and 

Magog,  and  furiously  assailed  the  knight 

on   every  side.    In  vain  he  roared,  and 

VOL.  n. — w.  H. 


invoked  fair  Dulcinea  del  Toboso :  for 
frogs'  wild  croaking  seemed  more  loud, 
more  sonorous  than  all  his  invocations. 
And  thus  in  battle  vile  the  knight  was 
overcome,  and  spawn  all  swarmed  upon 
his  glittering  helmet. 

"  Detested  miscreants !"  roared  the 
knight ;  "  avaunt !  Enchanters  dire  and 
goblins  could  alone  this  arduous  task  per- 
form ;  to  rout  the  knight  of  Mancha,  foul 
defeat,  and  war,  even  such  as  ne'er  was 
known  before.  Then  hear,  O  del  Toboso  I 
hear  my  vows,  that  thus  in  anguish  of  my 
soul  I  urge,  'midst  frogs,  Gridalbin, 
Hecatou,  Kai,  Talon,  and  the  Rove !  [for 
such  the  names  and  definitions  of  their 
qualities,  their  separate  powers.]  For 
Merlin  plumed  their  airy  flight,  and  then 
in  watery  moon-beam  dyed  his  rod  ec- 
centric. At  the  touch  ten  thousand  frogs, 
strange  metamorphosed,  croaked  erven 
thus :  And  here  they  come,  on  high  be- 
hest, to  vilify  the  knight  that  erst  de- 
fended famed  virginity,  and  matrons  all 
bewronged,  and  pilgrims  hoar,  and  courte- 
ous*guise  of  all !  But  the  age  of  chivalry 
is  gone,  and  the  glory  of  Europe  is  extin- 
guished forever !" 

He  spake,  and  sudden  good  Lord  Whit- 
tington,  at  head  of  all  his  raree-show, 
came  forth,  armor  antique  of  chivalry,  and 
helmets  old,  and  troops,  all  streamers,  flag! 
and  banners  glittering  gay,  red,  gold,  and 
purple ;  and  in  every  hand  a  square  of 
gingerbread,  all  gilded  nice,  was  brand- 
ished awful.  At  a  word,  ten  thousand 
thousand  Naples  biscuits,  crackers,  buns, 
and  flannel-cakes,  and  hats  of  gingerbread 
encountered  in  mid  air  in  glorious  exul- 
tation, like  some  huge  storm  of  mill- 
stones, or  when  it  rains  whole  clouds  of 
dogs  and  cats. 

The  frogs  astonished,  thunderstruck, 
forgot  their  notes  and  music,  that  before 
had  seemed  so  terrible,  and  drowned  the 
cries  of  knight  renown,  and  mute  in 
wonder  heard  the  words  of  Whittington, 
pronouncing  solemn  :  "  Goblins,  chimeras 
dire,  or  frogs,  or  whatsoe'er  enchantment 
thus  presents  in  antique  shape,  attend  and 
hear  the  words  of  peace ;  and  thou,  good 
herald,  read  aloud  the  Riot  Act ! " 

He  ceased,  and  dismal  was  the  tone 
that  softly  breathed  from  all  the  frogs  in 
chorus,  who  quick  had  petrified  with 
fright,  unless  redoubted  Gog  and  Magog, 
both  with  poles,  high  topped  with  airy 
bladders  by  a  string  dependent,  had  not 

16 


242 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


stormed  against  his  lordship.  Ever  and 
anon  the  bladders,  loud  resounding  on  his 
chaps,  proclaimed  their  fury  against  all 
potent  law,  coercive  mayorality ;  when 
he,  submissive,  thus  in  cunning  guile  ad- 
dressed the  knight  assailant :  "  Gog,  Ma- 
gog, renowned  and  famous!  what,  my 
tons,  shall  you  assail  your  father,  friend, 
and  chief  confessed?  Shall  you,  thus 
armed  with  bladders  vile,  attack  my  title, 
eminence,  and  pomp  sublime?  Subside, 
vile  discord,  and  again  return  to  your  true 
'legiance.  Think,  my  friends,  how  oft 
your  gorgeous  pouch"  I've  crammed,  all 
calapash,  green  fat  and  calapee.  Re- 
member how  you've  feasted,  stood  inert 
for  ages,  until  size  immense  you've  gained. 
And  think,  how  different  is  the  service  of 
Munchausen,  where  you  o'er  seas,  cold, 
briny  float  along  the  tide,  eternal  toiling 
like  to  slaves  Algiers  and  Tripoli.  And 
ev'n  on  high,  balloon  like,  through  the 
heavens  have  journeyed  late,  upon  a  rain- 
bow, or  some  awful  bridge  stretched 
eminent,  as  if  on  earth  he  had  not  work 
sufficient  to  distress  your  potent  servi- 
tudes, but  he  should  also  seek  in  heaven 
dire  cause  of  labor  I  Recollect,  my  friends, 
even  why  or  wherefrom  should  you  thus 
assail  your  lawful  magistrate,  or  why  de- 
sert his  livery  ?  or  for  what  or  wherefore 
serve  this  German  Lord  Munchausen, 
who  for  all  your  labor  shall  alone  bestow 
some  fudge  and  heroic  blows  in  war? 
Then  cease,  and  thus  in  amity  return  to 
friendship  aldermanic,  bungy,  brown,  and 
sober." 

Ceased  he  then,  right  worshipful,  when 
both  the  warring  champions  instant 
stemmed  their  battle,  and  in- sign  of  peace 
and  unity  returning,  'neath  their  feet  re- 
clined their  weapons.  Sudden  at  a  signal 
either  stamped  his  foot  sinistrine,  and  the 
loud  report  of  bursten  bladder  stunned 
each  ear  surrounding,  like  the  roar  of 
thunder  from  on  high  convulsing  heaven 
and  earth. 

'T  was  now  upon  the  saddle  once  again 
the  knight  of  Mancha  rose,  and  in  his 
hand  far  balancing  his  lance,  full  tilt 
against  the  troops  of  bulls  opposing  ran. 
And  thou,  shrill  Crillitrilkril,  than  whom 
no  cricket  e'er  on  hob  of  rural  cottage,  or 
chimney  black,  more  gladsome  tuned  his 
merry  note,  e'en  thou  didst  perish,  shriek- 
ing gave  the  ghost  in  empty  air,  the  sport 
ef  every  wind;  for  e'en  that  heart  sojo- 
cmnd  and  so  gay  was  pierced,  harsh  spitted 


by  the  lance  of  Mancha,  while  undaunted 
thou  didst  sit  between  the  horns  that 
crowned  Mowmowsky.  And  now  Whit- 
tington  advanced,  'midst  armor  antique 
and  the  powers  Magog  and  Gog,  and  with 
his  rod  enchanting  touched  the  head  of 
every  frog,  long  mute,  and  thunderstruck, 
at  which,  in  universal  chorus  and  salute, 
they  sung  blithe  jocund,  and  amain  ad- 
vanced rebellious  'gainst  my  troop. 

While  Sphinx,  though  great,  gigantic, 
seemed  instinctive  base  and  cowardly, 
and  at  the  sight  of  storming  gingerbread, 
and  powers,  Magog  and  Gog,  and  Quixote, 
all  against  her,  started  fierce,  o'erturning 
boat,  balloons,  and  all ;  loud  roared  the 
bulls,  hideous,  and  the  crash  of  wheels, 
and  the  chaos  of  confusion  drear,  re- 
sounded far  from  earth  to  heaven.  And 
still  more  fierce  in  charge  the  great  Lord 
Whittington,  from  poke  of  ermine  his 
famed  Grimalkin  took.  She  screamed, 
and  harsh  attacked  my  bulls  confounded  ; 
lightning-like  she  darted,  and  from  half 
the  troop  their  eyes  devouring  tore.  Nor 
could  the  riders,  crickets,  throned  sub- 
lime, escape  from  rage,  from  fury  less 
averse,  than  cannons  murder  o'er  the 
stormy  sea.  The  great  Mowmowsky  roared 
amain  and  plunged  in  anguish,  shunning 
every  dart  of  fire-eyed  fierce  Grimalkin. 
Dire  the  rage  of  warfare  and  contending 
crickets,  Quixote  and  great  Magog ;  when 
Whittington  advancing  —  "  Good,  my 
friends  and  warriors,  headlong  on  the  foe 
bear  down  impetuous."  He  spoke,  and 
waving  high  the  mighty  rod,  tipped  won- 
derful each  bull,  at  which  more  fierce 
the  creatures  bellowed,  while  enchant- 
ment drear  devoured  their  vitals.  And 
all  had  gone  to  wreck  in  more  than  mortal 
strife,  unless,  like  Neptune  orient  from 
the  stormy  deep,  I  rose,  e'en  towering 
o'er  the  ruins  of  my  fighting  troops. 
Serene  and  calm  I  stood,  and  gazed  around 
undaunted ;  nor  did  aught  oppose  against 
my  foes  impetuous.  But  sudden  from 
chariot  purses  plentiful  of  fudge  poured 
forth,  and  scattered  it  amain  o'er  all  tke 
crowd  contending.  As  when  old  Catherine 
or  the  careful  Joan  doth  scatter  to  the 
chickens  bits  of  bread  and  crumbs  frag- 
mented, while  rejoiced  they  gobble  fast 
the  proffered  scraps  in  general  plenty  and 
fraternal  peace,  and  "hush,"  she  criea 
"hush!"  hush!" 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


2-r 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  BARON  ARRIVES  IN  ENGLAND — THE 
COLOSSUS  OF  RHODES  COMES  TO  CONGRA- 
TULATE HIM — GREAT  REJOICINGS  ON  THE 
BARON'S  RETURN,  AND  A  TREMENDOUS 
CONCERT — THE  BARON'S  DISCOURSE  WITH 
FRAGRANTIA,  AND  HER  OPINION  OF  THE 
TOUR  TO  THE  HEBRIDES. 

HAVING  arrived  in  England  once  more, 
the  greatest  rejoicings  were  made  for  my 
return  ;  the  whole  city  seemed  one  gene- 
ral blaze  of  illumination,  and  the  Colossus 
of  Rhodes,  hearing  of  my  astonishing 
feats,  came  on  purpose  to  England  to  con- 
gratulate me  on  such  unparalleled  achieve- 
ments. But,  above  all  other  rejoicings  on 
my  return,  the  musical  oratorio  and  song 
of  triumph  were  magnificent  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

Gog  and  Magog  were  ordered  to 
take  the  maiden  tower  of  Windsor,  and 
make  a  tambourine  or  great  drum  of  it. 
For  this  purpose  they  extended  an  ele- 
phant's hide,  tanned  and  prepared  for  the 
design,  across  the  summit  of  the  tower, 
from  parapet  to  parapet,  so  that  in  propor- 
tion this  extended  elephant's  hide  was  to 
the  whole  of  the  castle  what  the  parch- 
ment is  to  a  drum,  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  whole  became  one  great  instrument 
of  war. 

To  correspond  with  this,  Colossus  took 
Guildhall  and  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
turning  the  foundations  towards  the  hea- 
vens, so  that  the  roofs  of  the  edifices  were 
upon  the  ground,  he  strung  them  across 
with  brass  and  steel  wire  from  side  to  side, 
and  thus,  when  strung,  they  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  most  noble  dulcimers.  He 
then  took  the  great  dome  of  St.  Paul's, 
raising  it  off  the  earth  with  as  much  facility 
as  you  would  a  decanter  of  claret.  And 
when  once  risen  up  it  had  the  appearance 
of  a  quart  bottle.  Colossus  instantly,  with 
his  teeth,  cracked  off  the  superior  part  of 
the  cupola,  and  then  applying  his  lips  to 
the  instrument,  began  to  sound  it  like  a 
trumpet.  'T  was  martial,  beyond  descrip- 
tion— tantara  ! — tara — ta  I 

During  the  concert  I  walked  in  the  park 
with  Lady  Fragrantia :  she  was  dressed 
that  morning  in  a  chemise  d  la  reine.  "  I 
like,"  said  she,  "  the  dew  of  the  morning, 
't  is  delicate  and  ethereal,  and,  by  thus  be- 
spangling me,  I  think  it  will  more  approx- 
imate me  to  the  nature  of  the  rose  [for  her 
looks  were  like  Aurora] ;  and  to  confirm 


the  vermilion  I  shall  go  to  Spa."  "  Aud 
drink  the  Pouhon  spring,"  added  I,  gaz- 
'ng  at  her  from  top  to  toe.  "  Yes,"  replied 
;he  lovely  Fragrantia,  "  with  all  my  heart ; 
t  is  the  drink  of  sweetness  and  delicacy. 
Never  were  there  any  creatures  like  the 
water-drinkers  at  Spa ;  they  seem  like  so 
many  thirsty  blossoms  on  a  peach-tree, 
ihat  suck  up  the  shower  in  the  scorching 
heat. 

There  is  a  certain  something  in  the 
waters  that  gives  vigor  to  the  whole 
frame,  and  expands  every  heart  with  rap- 
ture and  benevolence.  They  drink !  good 
ods !  how  they  do  drink  I  and  then,  how 
they  sleep  I  Pray,  my  dear  Baron,  were 
you  ever  at  the  Falls  of  Niagara  ?''  "  Yes, 
my  lady,"  replied  I,  surprised  at  such  a 
strange  association  of  ideas ;  "  I  have 
been,  many  years  ago,  at  the  Falls  of 
Niagara,  and  found  no  more  difficulty  in 
swimming  up  and  down  the  cataracts  than 
I  should  to  move  a  minuet."  At  that 
moment  she  dropped  her  nosegay.  "  Ah," 
said  she,  as  I  presented  it  to  her,  "  there 
is  no  great  variety  in  these  polyanthuses. 

do  assure  you,  my  dear  Baron,  that 
there  is  taste  in  the  selection  of  flowers  as 
well  as  everything  else,  and  were  I  a  girl 
of  sixteen  I  should  wear  some  rose-buds 
in  my  bosom,  but  at  five-and-twenty  I 
think  it  would  be  more  Apropos  to  wear  a 
full-blown  rose,  quite  ripe,  and  ready  to 
drop  off  the  stalk  for  want  of  being  pulled 
— heigh-ho  !"  "  But  pray,  my  lady,"  said 
I,  "now  do  you  like  the  concert?" 
"  Alas !  "  said  she,  languishingly,  while 
she  laid  her  hand  upon  my  shoulder, 
"  what  are  these  bodiless  sounds  and  vi- 
brations to  me?  and  yet  what  an  exquisite 
sweetness  in  the  songs  of  the  northern 
part  of  our  island :  '  Thou  art  gone  awa' 
from  me,  Mary ! '  How  pathetic  and  di- 
vine the  little  airs  of  Scotland  and  the 
Hebrides  !  But  never,  never  can  I  think 
of  that  same  Dr.  Johnson — that  CONSTA- 
BLE, as  Fergus  MacLeod  calls  him — but  I 
have  an  idea  of  a  great  brown  full-bot- 
tomed wig  and  a  hogshead  of  porter!  Oh, 
't  was  base  I  to  be  treated  everywhere  with 
politeness  and  hospitality,  and  in  return 
invidiously  to  smellfungus  them  all  over ; 
to  go  to  the  country  of  Kate  of  Aberdeen, 
of  Auld  Robin  Gray,  'midst  rural  inno- 
cence and  sweetness,  take  up  their  plaids, 
and  dance.  Oh  I  doctor,  doctorl " 

"  And  what  would  you  say,  Fragrantia, 
if  you  were  to  write  a  tour  to  the  He- 


244 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


brides  ?  "  "  Peace  to  the  heroes,"  replied 
she,  in  a  delicate  and  theatrical  tone; 
"  peace  to  the  heroes  who  sleep  in  the  isle 
of  lona ;  the  sons  of  the  wave,  and  the 
chiefs  of  the  dark -brown  shield !  The 
tear  of  the  sympathizing  stranger  is  scat- 
tered by  the  wind  over  the  hoary  stones 
as  she  meditates  sorrowfully  on  the  times 
of  old  I  Such  could  I  say,  sitting  upon 
some  druidical  heap  or  tumulus.  The  fact 
is,  there  is  a  right  and  wrong  handle  to 
everything,  and  there  is  more  pleasure  in 
thinking  with  pure  nobility  of  heart  than 
with  the  illiberal  enmities  and  sarcasm  of 
a  blackguard." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  LITIGATED  CONTENTION  BETWEEN  DON 
QUIXOTE,  GOG,  MAGOG,  ETC. — A  GRAND 
COURT  ASSEMBLED  UPON  IT — THE  APPEAR- 
ANCE OF  THE  COMPANY — THE  MATRONS, 
JUDGES,  ETC. — THE  METHOD  OF  WRITING, 
AND  THE  USE  OF  THE  FASHIONABLE 
AMUSEMENT  QUIZZES — WAUWAU  ARRIVES 
FROM  THE  COUNTRY  OF  PRESTER  JOHN, 
AND  LEADS  THE  WHOLE  ASSEMBLY  A  WILD- 
GOOSE  CHASE  TO  THE  TOP  OF  PLINLIMMON, 
AND  THENCE  TO  VIRGINIA — THE  BARON 
MEETS  A  FLOATING  ISLAND  IN  HIS  VOYAGE 
TO  AMERICA — PURSUES  WAUWAU  WITH 
HIS  WHOLE  COMPANY  THROUGH  THE  DES- 
ERTS OF  NORTH  AMERICA — HIS  CURIOUS 
CONTRIVANCE  TO  SEIZE  WAUWAU  IN  A 
MORASS. 

THE  contention  between  Gog  and  Ma- 
gog, and  Sphinx,  Hilaro  Frosticos,  the 
Lord  Whittington,  etc.,  was  productive  of 
infinite  litigation.  All  the  lawyers  in  the 
kingdom  were  employed  to  render  the 
affair  as  complex  and  gloriously  uncertain 
as  possible ;  and,  in  fine,  the  whole  na- 
tion became  interested,  and  were  divided 
on  both  sides  of  the  question.  Colossus 
took  the  part  of  Sphinx,  and  the  affair 
was  at  length  submitted  to  the  decision  of 
a  grand  council  in  a  great  hall,  adorned 
with  seats  on  every  side  in  form  of  an 
amphitheatre.  The  assembly  appeared 
the  most  magnificent  and  splendid  in  the 
world. 

A  court  or  jury  of  one  hundred  ma- 
trons occupied  the  principal  and  most 
honorable  part  of  the  amphitheatre ;  they 
were  dressed  in  flowing  robes  of  sky-blue 
velvet,  adorned  with  festoons  of  brilliants 


and  diamond  stars;  grave  and  sedate- 
looking  matrons,  all  in  uniform,  with 
spectacles  upon  their  noses  ;  and  opposite 
to  these  were  placed  one  hundred  judges, 
with  curly  white  wigs  flowing  down  on 
each  side  of  them  to  their  very  feet,  so 
that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  so 
wise  in  appearance.  At  the  ardent  re- 
quest of  the  whole  empire,  I  condescended 
to  be  the  president  of  the  court,  and  being 
arrayed  accordingly,  I  took  my  seat  be- 
neath a  canopy  erected  in  the  centre.  Be- 
fore every  judge  was  placed  a  square  ink- 
stand, containing  a  gallon  of  ink,  and 
pens  of  a  proportionable  size ;  and  also 
right  before  him  an  enormous  folio,  so 
large  as  to  serve  for  table  and  book  at  the 
same  time. 

But  they  did  not  make  much  use  of 
their  pens  and  ink,  except  to  blot  and 
daub  the  paper;  for,  that  they  should  be 
the  more  impartial,  I  had  ordered  that 
none  but  the  blind  should  be  honored 
with  the  employment :  so  that  when  they 
attempted  to  write  anything,  they  uni- 
formly dipped  their  pens  into  the  machine 
containing  sand,  and  having  scrawled 
over  a  page,  as  they  thought,  desiring 
then  to  dry  it  with  sand,  would  spill  half 
a  gallon  of  ink  upon  the  paper,  and  there- 
by daubing  their  fingers,  would  transfer 
the  ink  to  their  face  whenever  they  leaned 
their  cheek  upon  their  hand  for  greater 
gravity. 

As  to  the  matrons,  to  prevent  an  eter- 
nal prattle  that  would  drown  all  man- 
ner of  intelligibility,  I  found  it  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  sew  up  their  mouths  ; 
so  that  between  the  blind  judges  and  the 
dumb  matrons,  methought  the  trial  had 
a  chance  of  being  terminated  sooner  than 
it  otherwise  would.  The  matrons,  instead 
of  their  tongues,  had  other  instruments  to 
convey  their  ideas:  each  of  them  had 
three  quizzes,  one  quiz  pendant  from  the 
string  that  sewed  up  her  mouth,  and  ano- 
ther quiz  in  either  hand.  When  she 
wished  to  express  her  negative,  she  darted 
and  recoiled  the  quizzes  in  her  right  and 
left  hand :  and  when  she  desired  to  ex- 
press her  affirmative,  she,  nodding,  made 
the  quiz  pendant  from  her  mouth  flow 
down  and  recoil  again.  The  trial  pro- 
ceeded in  this  manner  for  a  long  time,  to 
the  admiration  of  the  whole  empire,  when 
at  length  I  thought  proper  to  send  to  my 
old  friend  and  ally,  Prester  John,  entreat- 
ing him  to  forward  to  me  one  of  the  spe« 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


245 


eimens  of  wild  and  curious  birds  found  in 
his  kingdom,  called  a  Wauwau.  This 
creature  was  brought  over  the  great  bridge 
before  mentioned,  from  the  interior  of 
Africa,  by  a  balloon.  The  balloon  was 
placed  upon  the  bridge,  extending  over 
the  parapets  on  each  side,  with  great  wings 
or  oars  to  assist  its  velocity,  and  under  the 
balloon  was  placed  pendant  a  kind  of 
boat,  in  which  were  the  persons  to  man- 
age the  steerage  of  the  machine,  and  pro- 
tect Wauwau. 

This  oracular  bird,  arriving  in  Eng- 
land, instantly  darted  through  one  of  the 
windows  of  the  great  hall,  and  perched 
upon  the  canopy  in  the  centre,  to  the  ad- 
miration of  all  present.  Her  cackling 
appeared  quite  prophetic  and  oracular; 
and  the  first  question  proposed  to  her,  by 
the  unanimous  consent  of  the  matrons 
and  judges,  was,  Whether  or  not  the 
Moon  was  composed  of  green  cheese? 
The  solution  of  this  question  was  deemed 
absolutely  necessary  before  they  could 
proceed  farther  on  the  trial. 

Wauwau  seemed  in  figure  not  very  much 
differing  from  a  swan,  except  that  the 
neck  was  not  near  so  long,  and  she  stood 
after  an  admirable  fashion  like  to  Vestris. 
She  began  cackling  most  sonorously,  and 
the  whole  assembly  agreed  that  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  catch  her,  and 
having  her  in  their  immediate  possession, 
nothing  more  would  be  requisite  for  the 
termination  of  this  litigated  affair.  For 
this  purpose  the  whole  house  rose  up  to 
catch  her,  and  approached  in  tumult,  the 
judges  brandishing  their  pens,  and  shak- 
ing their  big  wigs,  and  the  matrons  quiz- 
zing as  much  as  possible  in  every  direc- 
tion, which  very  much  startled  Wauwau, 
who,  clapping  her  wings,  instantly  flew 
out  of  the  hall. 

The  assembly  began  to  proceed  af- 
ter her  in  order  and  style  of  prece- 
dence, together  with  my  whole  train 
of  Gog  and  Magog,  Sphinx,  Hilaro  Fros- 
ticos,  Queen  Mab's  chariot,  the  bulls  and 
crickets,  etc.,  preceded  by  bands  of  music ; 
while  Wauwau,  descending  on  the  earth, 
ran  on  like  an  ostrich  before  the  troop, 
cackling  all  the  way.  Thinking  suddenly 
to  catch  this  ferocious  animal,  the  judges 
and  matrons  would  suddenly  quicken 
their  pace,  but  the  creature  would  as 
quick  outrun  them,  or  sometimes  fly  away 
for  many  miles  together,  and  then  alight 
to  take  breath  until  we  came  within  sight 


of  her  again.  Our  train  journeyed  over  a 
most  prodigious  tract  of  country,  in  a  di- 
rect line,  over  hills  and  dales,  to  the  sum- 
mit of  Plinlimmon,  where  we  thought  to 
have  seized  Wauwau ;  but  she  instantly 
took  flight,  and  never  ceased  until  she  ar- 
rived at  the  mouth  of  the  Potomac  river 
in  Virginia. 

Our  company  immediately  embarked  in 
the  machines  before  described,  in  which 
we  had  journeyed  into  Africa,  and  after  a 
few  days'  sail  arrived  in  North  America. 
We  met  with  nothing  curious  on  our  voy- 
age, except  a  floating  island,  containing 
some  very  delightful  villages,  inhabited 
by  a  few  whites  and  negroes ;  the  sugar- 
cane did  not  thrive  there  well,  on  account, 
as  I  was  informed,  of  the  variety  of  the 
climates  ;  the  island  being  sometimes 
driven  up  as  far  as  the  north  pole,  and  at 
other  times  wafted  under  the  equinoctial. 
In  pity  to  the  poor  islanders,  I  got  a  huge 
stake  of  iron,  and  driving  it  through  the 
centre  of  the  island,  fastened  it  to  the  mud 
and  rocks  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  since 
which  time  the  island  has  become  sta- 
tionary, and  is  well  known  at  present  by 
the  name  of  St.  Christopher's,  and  there 
is  not  an  island  in  the  world  more  se- 
cure. 

Arriving  in  North  America,  we  were 
received  by  the  President  of  the  United 
States  with  every  honor  and  politeness. 
He  was  pleased  to  give  us  all  the  infor- 
mation possible  relative  to  the  woods  and 
immense  regions  of  America,  and  ordered 
troops  of  the  different  tribes  of  the  Esqui- 
maux to  guide  us  through  the  forests  in 
pursuit  of  Wauwau,  who,  we  at  length 
found,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  centre  of  a 
morass. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  country,  who 
loved  hunting,  were  much  delighted 
to  behold  the  manner  in  which  we  at- 
tempted to  seize  upon  Wauwau ;  the  chase 
was  noble  and  uncommon.  I  determined 
to  surround  the  animal  on  every  side,  and 
for  this  purpose  ordered  the  judges  and 
matrons  to  surround  the  morass  with  nets 
extending  a  mile  in  height,  on  various 
parts  of  which  net  the  company  disposed 
themselves,  floating  in  the  air  like  so 
many  spiders  upon  their  cobwebs.  Magog, 
at  my  command,  put  on  a  kind  of  armor 
that  he  had  carried  with  him  for  the  pur- 
pose, corslet  of  steel,  with  gauntlets,  hel- 
mets, etc.,  so  as  nearly  to  resemble  a 
mole. 


246 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON   MUNCHAUSEN. 


He  instantly  plunged  into  the  earth, 
making  way  with  his  sharp  steel  head- 
piece, and  tearing  up  the  ground  with  his 
iron-claws,  and  found  not  much  difficulty 
therein,  as  morass  in  general  is  of  a  soft 
and  yielding  texture.  Thus  he  hoped  to 
undermine  Wauwau,  and  suddenly  rising, 
seize  her  by  the  foot,  while  his  brother 
Gog  ascended  the  air  in  a  balloon,  hoping 
to  catch  her  if  she  should  escape  Magog. 
Thus  the  animal  was  surrounded  on  every 
side,  and  at  first  was  very  much  terrified, 
knowing  not  which  way  she  had  best  to 
go.  At  length  hearing 'an  obscure  noise 
under  ground,  Wauwau  took  flight  before 
Magog  could  have  time  to  catch  her  by 
the  foot. 

She  flew  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left, 
north,  east,  west,  and  south,  but  found 
on  every  side  the  company  prepared  upon 
their  nets.  At  length  she  flew  right  up, 
soaring  at  a  most  astonishing  rate  to- 
wards the  sun,  while  the  company  on 
every  side  set  up  one  general  acclamation. 
But  Gog  in  his  balloon  soon  stopped  Wau- 
wau in  the  midst  of  her  career,  and  snared 
her  in  a  net  the  cords  of  which  he  con- 
tinued to  hold  in  his  hand.  Wauwau  did 
not  totally  lose  her  presence  of  mind,  but, 
after  a  little  consideration,  made  several 
violent  darts  against  the  volume  of  the 
balloon ;  so  fierce,  as  at  length  to  tear 
open  a  great  space,  on  which  the  inflam- 
mable air  rushing  out,  the  whole  appara- 
tus began  to  tumble  to  the  earth  with 
amazing  rapidity.  Gog  himself  was  thrown 
out  of  the  vehicle,  and  letting  go  the 
reins  of  the  net,  Wauwau  got  liberty 
again,  and  flew  out  of  sight  in  an  in- 
stant. 

Gog  had  been  above  a  mile  elevated 
from  the  earth  when  he  began  to  fall,  and 
as  he  advanced  the  rapidity  increased,  so 
that  he  went  like  a  ball  from  a  cannon 
into  the  morass,  and  his  nose  striking 
against  one  of  the  iron-capped  hands  of 
his  brother  Magog,  just  then  rising  from 
the  depths,  he  began  to  bleed  violently, 
and,  but  for  the  softness  of  the  morass, 
would  h»ve  lost  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  BARON  HARANGUES  THE  COMPANY, 
AND  THEY  CONTINUE  THE  PURSUIT — THB 
BARON,  WANDERING  FROM  HIS  RETINUE, 
IS  TAKEN  BY  THE  SAVAGES,  SCALPED,  AND 
TIED  TO  A  STAKE  TO  BE  ROASTED,  BUT  HE 
CONTRIVES  TO  EXTRICATE  HIMSELF,  AND 
KILLS  THE  SAVAGES — THE  BARON  TRAVELS 
OVERLAND  THROUGH  THE  FORESTS  OF 
NORTH  AMERICA  TO  THE  CONFINES  OP 
RUSSIA— ARRIVES  AT  THE  CASTLE  OF  THB 
NARESKIN  ROWSKIMOWMOWSKY.  AND  GAL- 
LOPS INTO  THE  KINGDOM  OF  LOGGERHEADS 
— A  BATTLE,  IN  WHICH  THE  BARON  FIGHTS 
THE  NARESKIN  IN  SINGLE  COMBAT,  AND 
GENEROUSLY  GIVES  HIM  HIS  LIFE — AR- 
RIVES AT  THE  FRIENDLY  ISLANDS  AND  DIS- 
COURSES WITH  OMAI — THE  BARON,  WITH 
ALL  HIS  ATTENDANTS,  GOES  FROM  OTA- 
HEITE  TO  THE  ISTHMUS  OF  DARIEN,  AND 
HAVING  CUT  A  CANAL  ACROSS  THE  ISTH- 
MUS, RETURNS  TO  ENGLAND. 

"  MY  friends,  and  very  learned  and 
profound  Judiciarii,"  said  I,  "  be  not  din- 
heartened  that  Wauwau  has  escaped  from 
you  at  present:  persevere,  and  we  shall 
yet  succeed.  You  should  never  despair, 
Munchausen  being  your  general ;  and 
therefore  be  brave,  be  courageous,  and 
fortune  shall  second  your  endeavors.  Let 
us  advance  undaunted  in  pursuit,  and 
follow  the  fierce  Wauwau  even  three 
times  round  the  globe,  until  we  entrap 
her.'' 

My  words  filled  them  with  confidence 
and  valor,  and  they  unanimously  agreed 
to  continue  the  chase.  We  penetrated 
the  frightful  deserts  and  gloomy  woods  of 
America,  beyond  the  source  of  the  Ohio, 
through  countries  utterly  unknown  be- 
fore. I  frequently  took  the  diversion  of 
shooting  in  the  woods,  and  one  day  that 
I  happened  with  three  attendants  to  wan- 
der far  from  our  troop,  we  were  suddenly 
set  upon  by  a  number  of  savages.  As  we 
had  expended  our  powder  and  shot,  and 
happened  to  have  no  side  arms,  it  was  in 
vain  to  make  any  resistance  against  hun- 
dreds of  enemies.  In  short,  they  bound 
us,  and  made  us  walk  before  them  to  a 
gloomy  cavern  in  a  rock,  where  they  feast- 
ed upon  what  game  they  had  killed,  but 
which,  not  being  sufficient,  they  took  my 
three  unfortunate  companions  and  myself, 
and  scalped  us.  The  pain  of  losing  the 
flesh  from  my  head  was  most  horrible ;  it 
made  me  leap  in  agonies,  and  roar  like  a 
bull.  They  then  tied  us  to  stakes,  and 
making  great  fires  around  us,  began  to 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


247 


dance  in  a  circle,  singing  with  much  dis- 
tortion and  barbarity,  and  at  times  put- 
ting the  palms  of  their  hands  to  their 
mouths,  set  up  the  war-whoop.  As  they 
had  on  that  day  also  made  a  great  prize 
of  some  wine  and  spirits  belonging  to  our 
troop,  these  barbarians,  finding  it  deli- 
cious, and,  unconscious  of  its  intoxicating 
quality,  began  to  drink  it  in  profusion, 
while  they  beheld  us  roasting,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  they  were  all  completely 
drunk,  and  fell  asleep  around  the  fires. 
Perceiving  some  hopes,  I  used  most  aston- 
ishing efforts  to  extricate  myself  from  the 
cords  with  which  I  was  tied,  and  at  length 
succeeded.  I  immediately  unbound  my 
companions,  and  though  half  roasted, 
they  still  had  power  enough  to  walk.  We 
sought  about  for  the  flesh  that  had  been 
taken  off  our  heads,  and  having  found  the 
scalps,  we  immediately  adapted  them  to 
our  bloody  heads,  sticking  them  on  with 
a  kind  of  glue  of  a  sovereign  quality,  that 
flows  from  a  tree  in  that  country,  and  the 
parts  united  and  healed  in  a  few  hours. 
We  took  good  care  to  revenge  ourselves 
on  the  savages,  and  with  their  own  hatch- 
ets put  every  one  of  them  to  death.  We 
then  returned  to  our  troop,  who  had  given 
us  up  for  lost,  and  they  made  great  rejoic- 
ings on  our  return.  We  now  proceeded 
in  our  journey  through  this  prodigious 
wilderness,  Gog  and  Magog  acting  as  pio- 
neers, hewing  down  the  trees,  etc.,  at  a 
great  rate  as  we  advanced.  We  passed 
over  numberless  swamps  and  lakes  and 
rivers,  until  at  length  we  discovered  a  hab- 
itation at  some  distance.  It  appeared  a 
dark  and  gloomy  castle,  surrounded  with 
strong  ramparts,  and  a  broad  ditch.  We 
called  a  council  of  war,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  send  a  deputation  with  a  trum- 
pet to  the  walls  of  the  castle,  and  demand 
friendship  from  the  governor,  whoever  he 
might  be,  and  an  account  if  aught  he 
knew  of  Wauwau.  For  this  purpose  our 
caravan  halted  in  the  wood,  and  Gog  and 
Magog  reclined  amongst  the  trees,  that 
their  enormous  strength  and  size  should 
not  be  discovered,  and  give  umbrage  to 
the  lord  of  the  castle.  Our  embassy  ap- 
proached the  castle,  and  having  demanded 
admittance  for  some  time,  at  length  the 
drawbridge  was  let  down  and  they  were 
suffered  to  enter.  As  soon  as  they  had 
passed  the  gate,  it  was  immediately  closed 
after  them,  and  on  either  side  they  per- 
ceived ranks  of  halberdiers,  who  made 


them  tremble  with  fear.  "  We  come,"  the 
herald  proclaimed,  "  on  the  part  of  Hilaro 
Frosticos,  Don  Quixote,  Lord  Whitting- 
ton,  and  the  thrice-renowned  Baron  Mun- 
chausen,  to  claim  friendship  from  the 
governor  of  this  puissant  castle,  and  to 
seek  Wauwau."  ''The  most  noble  the 
governor,"  replied  an  officer,  ''is  at  all 
times  happy  to  entertain  such  travellera 
as  pass  through  these  immense  deserts, 
and  will  esteem  it  an  honor  that  the  great 
Hilaro  Frosticos,  Don  Quixote,  Lord  Whit- 
tington,  and  the  thrice-renowned  Baron 
Munchausen,  enter  his  castle  walls." 

In  short,  we  entered  the  castle.  The 
governor  sat  with  all  our  company  to 
table,  surrounded  by  his  friends,  of  a  very 
fierce  and  warlike  appearance.  They  spoke 
but  little,  and  seemed  very  austere  and 
reserved,  until  the  first  course  was  served 
up.  The  dishes  were  brought  in  by  a 
number  of  bears,  walking  on  their  hind- 
legs,  and  on  every  dish  was  a  fricassee  of 
pistols,  pistol-bullets,  sauce  of  gunpowder 
and  aqua-vitae.  This  entertainment 
seemed  rather  indigestible  by  even  an 
ostrich's  stomach,  when  the  governor  ad- 
dressed us,  and  informed  me  that  it  was 
ever  his  custom  to  strangers  to  offer  them 
for  the  first  course  a  service  similar  to  that 
before  us,  and  if  they  were  inclined  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation,  he  would  fight  them 
as  much  as  they  pleased,  but  if  they  could 
not  relish  the  pistol-bullets,  etc.,  he  would 
conclude  them  peaceable,  and  try  what 
better  politeness  he  could  show  them  in 
his  castle.  In  short,  the  first  course  being 
removed  untouched,  we  dined,  and  after 
dinner  the  governor  forced  the  company 
to  push  the  oottle  about  with  alacrity  and 
to  excess.  He  informed  us  that  he  was 
the  Nareskin  Eowskimowmowsky,  who 
had  retired  amidst  these  wilds,  disgusted 
with  the  court  of  Petersburg.  I  was  re- 
joiced to  meet  him ;  I  recollected  my  old 
friend,  whom  I  had  known  at  the  court  of 
Russia  when  I  rejected  the  hand  of  the 
empress.  The  Nareskin,  with  all  his 
knights-companions,  drank  to  an  astonish- 
ing degree,  and  we  all  set  off  upon  hobby 
horses,  in  full  cry,  out  of  the  castle.  Never 
was  there  seen  such  a  cavalcade  before. 
In  front  galloped  a  hundred  knights  be- 
longing to  the  castle,  with  hunting  horns 
and  a  pack  of  excellent  dogs ;  and  then 
came  the  Nareskin  Rowskimowmowsky, 
Gog  and  Magog,  Hilaro  Frosticos,  and 
your  humble  servant,  hallooing  and 


243 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


shouting  like  so  many  demoniacs,  and 
spurring  our  hobby  horses  at  an  infernal 
rate  until  we  arrived  in  the  kingdom  of 
Loggerheads. 

The  kingdom  of  Loggerheads  was  wilder 
than  any  part  of  Siberia,  and  the  Nareskin 
had  here  built  a  romantic  summer-house, 
in  a  Gothic  taste,  to  which  he  would  fre- 
quently retire  with  his  company  after 
dinner.  The  Nareskin  had  a  dozen 
bears  of  enormous  stature  that  danced  for 
our  amusement,  and  their  chiefs  performed 
the  minuet  de  la,  cour  to  admiration.  And 
here  the  most  noble  Hilaro  Frosticos 
thought  proper  to  ask  the  Nareskin  some 
intelligence  about  Wauwau,  in  quest  of 
whom  we  had  travelled  over  such  a  tract 
of  country,  and  encountered  so  many 
dangerous  adventures,  and  also  invited 
the  Nareskin,  Bowskimowmowsky  to  at- 
tend us  with  all  his  bears  in  the  expedi- 
tion. The  Nareskin  appeared  astonished 
at  the  idea;  he  looked  with  infinite 
hauteur  and  ferocity  on  Hilaro,  and 
affecting  violent  passion,  asked  him, 
"  Did  he  imagine  that  the  Nareskin  Row- 
skimowmowsky  could  condescend  to  take 
notice  of  a  Wauwau,  let  her  fly  what  way 
she  could  ?  Or  did  he  think  a  chief  pos- 
sessing such  blood  in  his  veins  could  en- 
gage in  such  a  foreign  pursuit?  By  the 
blood  of  all  the  bears  in  the  kingdom  of 
Loggerheads,  and  by  the  ashes  of  my 
great-great-grandmother  I  would  cut  off 
your  head !" 

Hilaro  Frosticos  resented  this  oration, 
and  in  short  a  general  riot  commenced. 
The  bears,  together  with  the  hundred 
knights,  took  the  part  of  the  Nareskin, 
and  Gog  and  Magog,  Don  Quixote,  the 
Sphinx,  Lord  Whittington,  the  bulls,  the 
crickets,  the  judges,  the  matrons,  and 
Hilaro  Frosticos,  made  noble  warfare 
against  them. 

I  drew  my  sword,  and  challenged  the 
Nareskin  to  single  combat.  He  frowned, 
while  his  eyes  sparkled  fire  and  indig- 
nation, and  bracing  a  buckler  on  his  left 
arm,  he  advanced  against  me.  I  made  a 
blow  at  him  with  all  my  force,  which  he 
received  upon  his  buckler,  and  my  sword 
broke  short. 

Ungenerous  Nareskin !  seeing  me  dis- 
armed, he  still  pushed  forward,  dealing 
his  blows  upon  me  with  the  utmost  vio- 
lence, which  I  parried  with  my  shield  and 
the  hilt  of  my  broken  sword,  and  fought 
like  a  game-cock. 


An  enormous  bear  at  the  same  time  at- 
tacked me,  but  I  ran  my  hand  still  re- 
taining the  hilt  of  my  broken  sword  down 
his  throat,  and  tore  up  his  tongue  by  the 
roots.  I  then  seized  his  carcass  by  the 
hind  legs,  and  whirling  it  over  my  head, 
gave  the  Nareskin  such  a  blow  with  his 
own  bear  as  evidently  stunned  him.  I  re- 
peated my  blows,  knocking  the  bear's  head 
against  the  Nareskin's  head,  until,  by  one 
happy  blow,  I  got  his  head  into  the  bear's 
jaws,  and  the  creature  being  still  some- 
what alive  and  convulsive,  the  teeth 
closed  upon  him  like  nut-crackers.  I 
threw  the  bear  from  me,  but  the  Nareskin 
remained  sprawling,  unable  to  extricate 
his  head  from  the  bear's  jaws,  imploring 
for  mercy.  I  gave  the  wretch  his  life  ;  a 
lion  preys  not  upon  carcasses. 

At  the  same  time  my  troop  had  effectu- 
ally routed  the  bears  and  the  rest  of  their 
adversaries.  I  was  merciful,  and  ordered 
quarter  to  be  given. 

At  the  moment  I  perceived  Wauwau 
flying  at  a  great  height  through  the  hea- 
vens, and  we  instantly  set  out  in  pursuit 
of  her,  and  never  stopped  until  we  arrived 
at  Kamschatka  ;  thence  we  passed  to 
Otaheite.  I  met  my  old  acquaintance 
Omai,  who  had  been  in  England  with  the 
great  navigator,  Cook,  and  I  was  glad  to 
find  he  had  established  Sunday-schools 
over  all  the  islands.  I  talked  to  him  of 
Europe,  and  his  former  voyage  to  England. 
"Ah!"  said  he,  most  emphatically,  "the 
English,  the  cruel  English,  to  murder  me 
with  goodness,  and  refine  upon  my  tor- 
ture— took  me  to  Europe,  and  showed  me 
the  court  of  England,  the  delicacy  of  ex- 
quisite life :  they  showed  me  gods,  and 
showed  me  heaven,  as  if  on  purpose  to 
make  me  feel  the  loss  of  them." 

From  these  islands,  we  set  out,  attended 
by  a  fleet  of  canoes  with  fighting-stages 
and  the  chiefest  warriors  of  the  islands, 
commanded  by  Omai.  Thus  the  chariot 
of  Queen  Mab,  my  team  of  bulls,  and  the 
crickets,  the  ark,  the  Sphinx,  and  the 
balloons,  with  Hilaro  Frosticos,  Gog  and 
Magog,  Lord  Whittington,  and  the  Lord 
Mayor's  show,  Don  Quixote,  etc.,  with  my 
fleet  of  canoes,  altogether  cut  a  very  for- 
midable appearance  on  our  arrival  at  the 
Isthmus  of  Darien.  Sensible  of  what 
general  benefit  it  would  be  to  mankind,  1 
immediately  formed  a  plan  of  cutting  a 
canal  across  the  isthmus  from  sea  to 
sea. 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCH AUSEN. 


249 


For  this  purpose  I  drove  my  chariot 
with  the  greatest  impetuosity  repeatedly 
from  shore  to  shore,  in  the  same  track, 
tearing  up  the  rocks  and  earth  thereby, 
and  forming  a  tolerable  bed  for  the  water. 
Gog  and  Magog  next  advanced  at  the 
head  of  a  million  of  people  from  the  realms 
of  North  and  South  America,  and  from 
Europe,  and  with  infinite  labor  cleared 
away  the  earth,  etc.,  that  I  had  ploughed 
up  with  my  chariot.  I  then  again  drove 
my  chariot,  making  the  canal  wider  and 
deeper,  and  ordered  Gog  and  Magog  to  re- 
peat their  labor  as  before.  The  canal 
being  a  quarter  of  a  mile  broad,  and  three 
hundred  yards  in  depth,  I  thought  it 
sufficient,  and  immediately  let  in  the 
waters  of  the  sea.  I  did  imagine,  that 
from  the  rotatory  motion  of  the  earth  on 
its  axis  from  west  to  east,  the  sea  would 
be  higher  on  the  eastern  than  the  western 
coast,  and  that  on  the  uniting  of  the  two 
seas  there  would  be  a  strong  current  from 
the  east,  and  it  happened  just  as  I  ex- 
pected. The  sea  came  in  with  tremendous 
magnificence,  and  enlarged  the  bounds  of 
the  canal,  so  as  to  make  a  passage  of  some 
miles  broad  from  ocean  to  ocean,  and 
make  an  island  of  South  America.  Several 
sail  of  trading  vessels  and  men-of-war 
sailed  through  this  new  channel  to  the 
South  Seas,  China,  etc.,  and  saluted  me 
with  all  their  cannon  as  they  passed. 

I  looked  through  my  telescope  at  the 
Moon,  and  perceived  the  philosophers 
there  in  great  commotion.  They  could 
plainly  discern  the  alteration  on  the  sur- 
face of  our  globe,  and  thought  themselves 
somehow  interested  in  the  enterprize  of 
their  fellow-mortals  in  a  neighboring 
planet.  They  seemed  to  think  it  admir- 
able that  such  little  beings  as  we  men 
should  attempt  so  magnificent  a  perfor- 
mance, that  would  be  observable  even  in 
a  separate  world. 

Thus,  having  wedded  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  to  the  South  Sea,  I  returned  to 
England,  and  found  Wauwau  precisely  in 
the  very  spot  whence  she  had  set  out, 
after  having  led  us  a  chase  all  round  the 
world. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THE  BARON  GOES  TO  PETERSBURG  AND  CON- 
VERSES WITH  THE  EMPRESS — PERSUADES 
THE  RUSSIANS  AND  TURKS  TO  CEASE  CUT- 
TING ONE  ANOTHER'S  THROATS,  AND  IN 

CONCERT  CUT  A  CANAL  ACROSS  THE  ISTH- 
MUS OP  SUEZ — THE  BARON  DISCOVERS  THE 
ALEXANDRINE  LIBRARY,  AND  MEETS  WITH 
HERMES  TRISMEGISTUS — BESIEGES  SERIN- 
GAPATAM,  AND  CHALLENGES  TIPPOO  SAIB 
TO  SINGLE  COMBAT — THEY  FIGHT — THE 
BARON  RECEIVES  SOME  WOUNDS  ON  HIS 
FACE,  BUT  AT  LENGTH  VANQUISHES  THE 
TYRANT — THE  BARON  RETURNS  TO  EUROPE, 
AND  RAISES  THE  HULL  OF  THE  "  ROYAL 
GEORGE." 

SEIZED  with  a  fury  of  canal  cutting,  I 
took  it  in  my  head  to  form  an  immediate 
communication  between  the  Mediter- 
ranean and  the  Ked  Sea,  and  therefore 
set  out  for  Petersburg. 

The  sanguinary  ambition  of  the  Em- 
press would  not  listen  to  my  proposals, 
until  I  took  a  private  opportunity,  taking 
a  cup  of  coffee  with  her  majesty,  to  tell  her 
that  I  would  absolutely  sacrifice  myself 
for  the  general  good  of  mankind,  and  if 
she  would  accede  to  my  proposals,  would, 
on  the  completion  of  the  canal,  ipso  facto, 
give  her  my  hand  in  marriage. 

"  My  dear,  dear  Baron,"  said  she,  "  I 
accede  to  everything  you  please,  and 
agree  to  make  peace  with  the  Porte  on 
the  conditions  you  mention.  And,"  added 
she,  rising  with  all  the  majesty  of  the 
Czarina,  Empress  of  half  the  world,  "  be 
it  known  to  all  subjects,  that  we  ordain 
these  conditions,  for  such  is  our  royal  will 
and  pleasure." 

I  now  proceeded  to  the  Isthmus  of  Suez, 
at  the  head  of  a  million  of  Russian 
pioneers,  and  there  united  my  forces  with 
a  million  of  Turks,  armed  with  shovels 
and  pickaxes.  They  did  not  come  to  cut 
each  other's  throats  but  for  their  mutual 
interest,  to  facilitate  commerce  and  civili- 
zation, and  pour  all  the  wealth  of  India 
by  a  new  channel  into  Europe.  "My 
brave  fellows,"  said  I,  "  consider  the  im- 
mense labor  of  the  Chinese  to  build  their 
celebrated  wall ;  think  of  what  superior 
benefit  to  mankind  is  our  present  under- 
taking ;  persevere,  and  fortune  will  second 
your  endeavors.  Remember  it  is  Mun- 
chausen  who  leads  you  on,  and  be  con- 
vinced of  success." 

Saying  these  words,  I  drove  my  chariot 
with  all  my  might  in  my  former  track, 


250 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUXCHAUSEN. 


that  vestige  mentioned  by  the  Baron  de 
Tott,  and  when  I  was  advanced  consider- 
ably, I  felt  my  chariot  sinking  under  me. 
I  attempted  to  drive  on,  but  the  ground, 
or  rather  immense  vault,  giving  way,  my 
chariot  and  all  went  down  precipitately. 
Stunned  by  the  fall,  I  was  some  moments 
before  I  could  recollect  myself,  when  at 
length,  to  my  amazement,  I  perceived  my- 
self fallen  into  the  Alexandrine  Library, 
overwhelmed  in  an  ocean  of  books  ;  thou- 
sands of  volumes  came  tumbling  on  my 
head  amidst  the  ruins  of  that  part  of  the 
vault  through  which  my  chariot  had  de- 
scended, and  for  a  time  buried  my  bulls, 
and  all  beneath  a  heap  of  learning.  How- 
ever, I  contrived  to  extricate  myself,  and 
advanced  with  awful  admiration  through 
the  vast  avenues  of  the  library.  I  per- 
ceived on  every  side  innumerable  volumes 
and  repositories  of  ancient  learning,  and 
all  the  science  of  the  Antediluvian  world. 
Here  I  met  with  Hermes  Trismegistus, 
and  a  parcel  of  old  philosophers  debating 
upon  the  politics  and  learning  of  their 
days.  I  gave  them  inexpressible  delight 
in  telling  them,  in  a  few  words,  all  the 
discoveries  of  Newton,  and  the  history  of 
the  world  since  their  time.  These  gentry, 
on  the  contrary,  told  me  a  thousand  stories 
of  antiquity  that  some  of  our  antiquarians 
would  give  their  very  eyes  to  hear. 

In  short,  I  ordered  the  library  to  be 
preserved,  and  I  intend  making  a  present 
of  it,  as  soon  as  it  arrives  in  England,  to 
the  Royal  Society,  together  with  Hermes 
Trismegistus,  and  half  a  dozen  old  philos- 
ophers. I  have  got  a  beautiful  cage  made, 
in  which  I  keep  these  extraordinary  crea- 
tures, and  feed  them  with  bread  and 
honey,  as  they  seem  to  believe  in  a  kind 
of  doctrine  of  transmigration,  and  will  not 
touch  flesh.  Hermes  Trismegistus  espe- 
cially is  a  most  antique-looking  being,  with 
a  beard  half  a  yard  long,  covered  with  a 
robe  of  golden  embroidery,  and  prates 
like  a  parrot.  He  will  cut  a  very  brilliant 
figure  in  the  Museum. 

Having  made  a  track  with  my  chariot 
from  sea  to  sea,  I  ordered  my  Turks  and 
Russians  to  begin,  and  in  a  few  hours  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  fleet  of  British 
East  Indiamen  in  full  sail  through  the 
canal.  The  officers  of  this  fleet  were  very 
polite,  and  paid  me  every  applause  and 
congratulation  my  exploits  could  merit. 
They  told  me  of  their  affairs  in  India,  and 
the  ferocity  of  that  dreadful  warrior, 


Tippoo  Saib,  on  which  I  resolved  to  go  to 
India  and  encounter  the  tyrant.  I  travelled 
down  the  Red  Sea  to  Madras,  and  at  the 
head  of  a  few  Sepoys  and  Europeans  pur- 
sued the  flying  army  of  Tippoo  to  the 
gates  of  Seringapatam.  I  challenged  him 
to  mortal  combat,  and,  mounted  on  my 
steed,  rode  up  to  the  walls  of  the  fortress 
amidst  a  storm  of  shells  and  cannon-balls. 
As  fast  as  the  bombs  and  cannon-balls 
came  upon  me,  I  caught  them  in  my 
hands  like  so  many  pebbles,  and  throwing 
them  against  the  fortress  demolished  the 
strongest  ramparts  of  the  place ;  I  took 
my  mark  so  direct  that  whenever  I  aimed 
a  cannon-bail  or  a  shell  at  any  person  on 
the  ramparts  I  was  sure  to  hit  him  :  and 
one  time  perceiving  a  tremendous  piece 
of  artillery  pointed  against  me,  and  know- 
ing the  ball  must  be  so  great  it  would 
certainly  stun  me,  I  took  a  small  cannon- 
ball,  and  just  as  I  perceived  the  engineer 
going  to  order  them  to  fire,  and  opening 
his  mouth  to  give  the  word  of  command, 
I  took  aim,  and  drove  my  ball  precisely 
down  his  throat. 

Tippoo,  fearing  that  all  would  be  lost, 
that  a  general  and  successful  storm  would 
ensue  if  I  continued  to  batter  the  place, 
came  forth  upon  his  elephant  to  fight  me  ; 
I  saluted  him,  and  insisted  he  should  fire 
first. 

Tippoo,  though  a  barbarian,  was  not 
deficient  in  politeness,  and  declined  the 
compliment ;  upon  which  I  took  off  my 
hat,  and  bowing,  told  him  it  was  an  ad- 
vantage Munchausen  should  never  be  said 
to  accept  from  so  gallant  a  warrior :  on 
which  Tippoo  instantly  discharged  his 
carbine,  the  ball  from  which,  hitting  my 
horse's  ear,  made  him  plunge  with  rage 
and  indignation.  In  return  I  discharged 
my  pistol  at  Tippoo,  and  shot  off  his  tur- 
ban. He  had  a  small  field-piece  mounted 
with  him  on  his  elephant,  which  he  then 
discharged  at  me,  and  the  grape-shot 
coming  in  a  shower,  rattled  in  the  laurels 
that  covered  and  shaded  me  all  over,  and 
remained  pendant  like  berries  on  the 
branches.  I  then  advancing  took  the 
proboscis  of  his  elephant,  and  turning  it 
against  the  rider,  struck  him  repeatedly 
with  the  extremity  of  it  on  either  side  of 
the  head,  until  I  at  length  dismounted 
him.  Nothing  could  equal  the  rage  of 
the  barbarian  finding  himself  thrown  from 
his  elephant.  He  rose  in  a  fit  of  despair, 
and  rushed  against  my  steed  and  myself; 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


251 


but  I  scorned  to  fight  him  at  so  great  a 
disadvantage  on  his  side,  and  directly  dis- 
mounted to  fight  him  hand  to  hand. 
Never  did  I  fight  with  any  man  who  bore 
himself  more  nobly  than  this  adversary  ; 
he  parried  my  blows,  and  dealt  home 
his  own  in  return  with  astonishing  pre- 
cision. The  first  blow  of  his  sabre  I 
received  upon  the  bridge  of  my  nose,  and 
but  for  the  bony  firmness  of  that  part  of 
my  face,  it  would  have  descended  to  my 
mouth.  I  shall  bear  the  mark  upon  my 
nose. 

He  next  made  a  furious  blow  at  my 
head,  but  I,  parrying,  deadened  the  force 
of  his  sabre,  so  that  I  received  but  one 
scar  on  my  forehead,  and  at  the  same  in- 
stant, by  a  blow  of  my  sword,  cut  off  his 
arm,  and  his  hand  and  sabre  fell  to  the 
earth;  he  tottered  for  some  paces,  and 
dropped  at  the  foot  of  his  elephant.  That 
sagacious  animal,  seeing  the  danger  of  his 
master,  endeavored  to  protect  him  by 
flourishing  his  proboscis  round  the  head 
of  the  Sultan. 

Fearless  I  advanced  against  the  ele- 
phant, desirous  to  take  alive  the  haughty 
Tippoo  Saib :  but  he  drew  a  pistol  from 
his  belt,  and  discharged  it  full  in  my  face 
as  I  rushed  upon  him,  which  did  me  no 
further  harm  than  wound  my  cheek-bone, 
which  disfigures  me  somewhat  under  my 
left  eye.  I  could  not  withstand  the  rage 
and  impulse  of  that  moment,  and  with  one 
blow  of  my  sword  separated  his  head  from 
his  body. 

I  returned  overland  from  India  to  Eu- 
rope with  admirable  velocity,  so  that  the 
account  of  Tippoo's  defeat  by  me  has  not 
as  yet  arrived  by  the  ordinary  passage, 
nor  can  you  expect  to  hear  of  it  for  a  con- 
siderable time.  I  simply  relate  the  en- 
counter as  it  happened  between  the  Sultan 
and  me;  and  if  there  be  any  one  who 
doubts  the  truth  of  what  I  say,  he  is  an 
infidel,  and  I  will  fight  him  at  any  time 
and  place,  and  with  any  weapon  he  pleases. 

Hearing  so  many  persons  talk  about 
raising  the  "  Royal  George,"  I  began  to 
take  pity  on  that  fine  old  ruin  of  British 
plank,  and  determined  to  have  her  up.  I 
was  sensible  of  the  failure  of  the  various 
means  hitherto  employed  for  the  purpose, 
and  therefore  inclined  to  try  a  method 
different  from  any  before  attempted.  I  got 
an  immense  balloon,  made  of  the  tough- 
est sail-cloth,  and  having  descended  in 
my  diving-bell,  and  properly  secured  the 


hull  with  enormous  cables,  I  ascended  to 
the  surface,  and  fastened  my  cables  to  the 
balloon.  Prodigious  multitudes  were  as- 
sembled to  behold  the  elevation  of  the 
"  Royal  George,'1  and  as  soon  as  I  began 
to  fill  my  balloon  with  inflammable  air 
the  vessel  evidently  began  to  move  :  but 
when  my  balloon  was  completely  filled, 
she  carried  up  the  "  Royal  George ''  with 
the  greatest  rapidity.  The  vessel  appear- 
ing on  the  surface  occasioned  a  universal 
shout  of  triumph  from  the  millions  assem- 
bled on  the  occasion.  Still  the  balloon 
continued  ascending,  trailing  the  hull 
after  like  a  lantern  at  the  tail  of  a  kite, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  appeared  floating 
among  the  clouds. 

It  was  then  the  opinion  of  many  philo- 
sophers that  it  would  be  more  difficult  to 
get  her  down  than  it  had  been  to  draw 
her  up.  But  I  convinced  them  to  the  con- 
trary by  taking  my  aim  so  exactly  with  a 
twelve-pounder,  that  I  brought  her  down 
in  an  instant. 

I  considered,  that  if  I  should  break  the 
balloon  with  a  cannon-ball  while  she  re- 
mained with  the  vessel  over  the  land,  the 
fall  would  inevitably  occasion  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  hull,  and  which,  in  its  fall, 
might  crush  some  of  the  multitude :  there- 
fore I  thought  it  safer  to  take  my  aim 
when  the  balloon  was  over  the  sea,  and, 
pointing  my  twelve-pounder,  drove  the 
ball  right  through  the  balloon  ;  on  which 
the  inflammable  air  rushed  out  with  great 
foroe,  and  the  "  Royal  George  "  descended 
like  a  falling  star  into  the  very  spot  from 
whence  she  had  been  taken.  There  she 
still  remains,  and  I  have  convinced  all 
Europe  of  the  possibility  of  taking  her  up. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  BARON  MAKES  A  SPEECH  TO  THE  NA- 
TIONAL ASSEMBLY,  AND  DRIVES  OUT  ALL 
THE  MEMBERS— ROUTS  THE  FISHWOMEN 
AND  THE  NATIONAL  GUARDS  —  PURSUES 
THE  WHOLE  ROUT  INTO  A  CHURCH,  WHERE 
HE  DEFEATS  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY, 
ETC.,  WITH  ROUSSEAU,  VOLTAIRE  AND  BEEL- 
ZEBUB AT  THEIR  HEAD,  AND  LIBERATES 
MARIE  ANTOINETTE  AND  THE  ROYAL 
FAMILY. 

PASSING  through  Switzerland  on  my 
return  from  India,  I  was  informed  that 
several  of  the  German  nobility  had  been 


252 


TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  BARON   MUNCHAUSEN. 


deprived  of  the  honors  and  immunities  of 
their  French  estates.  I  heard  of  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  amiable  Marie  Antoinette, 
and  swore  to  avenge  every  look  that 
had  threatened  her  with  insult.  I  went  to 
the  cavern  of  these  Anthropophagi,  as- 
sembled to  debate,  and  gracefully  putting 
the  hilt  of  my  sword  to  my  lips— "  I 
swear,"  cried  I,  "  by  the  sacred  cross  of 
my  sword,  that  if  you  do  not  instantly  re- 
instate your  king  and  his  nobility,  and 
your  injured  queen,  I  will  cut  the  one-half 
of  you  to  pieces." 

On  which  the  President,  taking  up  a 
leaden  inkstand,  flung  it  at  my  head.  I 
stooped  to  avoid  the  blow,  and  rushing  to 
the  tribunal  seized  the  Speaker,  who  was 
fulminating  against  the  Aristocrats,  and 
taking  the  creature  by  one  leg,  flung  him 
at  the  President.  I  laid  about  me  most 
nobly,  drove  them  all  out  of  the  house, 
and,  locking  the  doors,  put  the  key  in  my 
pocket. 

I  then  went  to  the  poor  king,  and  mak- 
ing my  obeisance  to  him — "  Sire,"'  said  I, 
"  your  enemies  have  all  fled.  I  alone  am 
the  National  Assembly  at  present,  and  I 
shall  register  your  edicts  to  recall  the 
princes  and  the  nobility ;  and  in  future,  if 
your  majesty  pleases,  I  will  be  your  Pre- 
sident and  Council."  He  thanked  me, 
and  the  amiable  Marie  Antoinette,  smil- 
ing, gave  me  her  hand  to  kiss. 

At  that  moment  I  perceived  a  party  of 
the  National  Assembly,  who  had  rallied 
with  the  National  Guards,  and  a  vast  pro- 
cession of  iishwomen,  advancing  against 
me.  I  deposited  their  Majesties  in  a  place 
of  safety,  and  with  my  drawn  sword  ad- 
vanced against  my  foes.  Three  hundred 
fish  worn  en,  with  bushes  dressed  with  rib- 
bons in  their  hands,  came  hallooing  and 
roaring  against  me  like  so  many  furies  ;  I 
scorned  to  defile  my  sword  with  their 
blood  ;  but  seized  the  first  that  came  up, 
and  making  her  kneel  down  I  knighted 
her  with  my  sword,  which  so  terrified  the 
rest  that  they  all  set  up  a  frightful  yell 
and  ran  away  as  fast  as  they  could  for  fear 
of  being  aristocrated  by  knighthood. 

As  to  the  National  Guards  and  the  rest 
of  the  Assembly,  I  soon  put  them  to 
flight ;  and  having  made  prisoners  of 
some  of  them,  compelled  them  to  take 
down  their  national,  and  put  the  old  royal 
cockade  in  its  place. 

I  then  pursued  the  enemy  to  the  top  of 
a  hill,  where  a  most  noble  edifice  dazzled 


my  sight ;  noble  and  sacred  it  wag,  but 
now  converted  to  the  vilest  purposes, 
their  monument  de  grands  hommes,  a 
Christian  church  that  these  Saracens  had 
perverted  into  abomination.  I  burst  open 
the  doors,  and  entered  sword  in  hand. 
Here  I  observed  all  the  National  Assem- 
bly marching  round  a  great  altar  erected 
to  Voltaire ;  there  was  his  statue  in  tri- 
umph, .and  the  fishwomen  with  garlands 
decking  it,  and  singing  "  Ca  ira  I "  I 
could  bear  the  sight  no  longer:  but  rushed 
upon  these  pagans,  and  sacrificed  them 
by  dozens  on  the  spot.  The  members  of 
the  Assembly,  and  the  fishwomen,  con- 
tinued to  invoke  their  great  Voltaire,  and 
all  their  masters  in  this  monument  de 
grands  hommes,  imploring  them  to  come 
down  and  succor  them  against  the  Aris- 
tocrats and  the  sword  of  Munchausen. 
Their  cries  were  horrible,  like  the  shrieks 
of  witches  and  enchanters  versed  in  magic 
and  the  black  art,  while  the  thunder 
growled,  and  storms  shook  the  battle- 
ments, and  Eousseau,  Voltaire,  and  Beel- 
zebub appeared,  three  horrible  spectres  ; 
one  all  meagre,  mere  skin  and  bone,  and 
cadaverous,  seemed  death,  that  hideous 
skeleton  :  it  was  Voltaire,  and  in  his  hand 
were  a  lyre  and  a  dagger.  On  the  other 
side  was  Rousseau,  with  a  chalice  of  sweet 
poison  in  his  hand,  and  between  them  was 
their  father  Beelzebub. 

I  shuddered  at  the  sight,  and  with  all 
the  enthusiasm  of  rage,  horror,  and  piety, 
rushed  in  among  them.  I  seized  that 
cursed  skeleton,  Voltaire,  and  soon  com- 
pelled him  to  renounce  all  the  errors  he 
had  advanced;  and  while  he  spoke  the 
words,  as  if  by  magic  charm,  the  whole 
assembly  shrieked,  and  their  pandemo- 
nium began  to  tumble  in  hideous  ruin  on 
their  heads. 

I  returned  in  triumph  to  the  palace, 
where  the  Queen  rushed  into  my  arms, 
weeping  tenderly.  "  Ah,  thou  flower  of 
nobility,"  cried  she,  "  were  all  the  nobles 
of  France  like  thee,  we  should  never  have 
been  brought  to  this  !  " 

I  bade  the  lovely  creature  dry  her  eyes, 
and  with  the  King  and  Dauphin  ascend 
my  carriage  and  drive  post  to  Mont-Medi, 
as  not  an  instant  was  to  be  lost.  They 
took  my  advice  and  drove  away.  I  con- 
veyed them  within  a  few  miles  of  Mont- 
Medi,  when  the  King,  thanking  me  for 
my  assistance,  hoped  I  would  not  trouble 
myself  any  farther,  as  he  was  then,  he  pre- 


THE  LITTLE  HATCHET  STORY. 


253 


Burned,  out  of  danger;  and  the  Queen 
also,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  thanked  me 
on  her  knees,  and  presented  the  Dauphin 
for  my  blessing.  In  short,  I  left  the  King 
eating  a  mutton-chop.  I  advised  him  not 
to  delay,  or  he  would  certainly  be  taken, 
and  setting  spurs  to  my  horse,  wished 
them  a  good  evening  and  returned  to 
England.  If  the  King  remained  too  long 
at  table,  and  was  taken,  it  was  not  my 
fault. 

END  OF  BARON  MUNCHAUSEN. 


DEACON  DODD. 

DEACON  DODD  once  feelingly  said, 
About  his  Betsy,  long  since  dead, 
"  If  ever  an  angel  loved  a  man, 
That  angel,  sir,  was  Betsy  Ann  ; 
tf  I  happened  to  scold  her,  she  was  so  meek, 
( Which  the  Deacon  did  seven  times  a  week  I ) 
She'd  clap  her  apron  up  to  her  eye, 
And  never  say  nothin',  but  only  cry." 
But,  ladies,  p'rhaps  you'd  like  to  be  told, 
That  Deacon  Dodd,  like  other  men, 
Waited  a  year,  and  married  again; 
But  he  married  a  most  inveterate  scold. 
And  now  'tis  the  Deacon's  turn  to  be  meek, 
As  he  gets  well  rasped  from  week  to  week ! 
But  rather  than    "open   his   head"    he'd 

burst, — 

He  wishes  the  second  was  with  the  first  I 
But  as  she's  as  tough  as  a  hickory  limb, 
No  doubt  she'll  live  to  say  of  him, 
"  If  ever  a  saint  the  footstool  trod, 
That  man — that  saint — was  Deacon  Dodd." 
Country  Love  and  City  Life. 


THE  LITTLE  HATCHET  STORY : 

WITH  OCCASIONAL  QUESTIONS  BY  A 
FIVE-YEAR-OLD  HEARER. 

AND  so,  smiling,  we  went  on. 

"  Well,  one  day,  George's  father — " 

"  George  who  ?  "  asked  Clarence. 

"  George  Washington.  He  was  a  little 
boy,  then,  just  like  you.  One  day  his 
father—" 

"Whose  father?"  demanded  Clarence, 
with  an  encouraging  expression  of  in- 
terest. 

"  George  Washington's  ;  this  great  man 
we  are  telling  you  of.  One  day  George 


Washington's  father  gave  him  a  littlo 
hatchet  for  a — '' 

"  Gave  who  a  little  hatchet?"  the  dear 
child  interrupted  with  a  gleam  of  be- 
witching intelligence.  Most  men  would 
have  got  mad,  or  betrayed  signs  of  im- 
patience, but  we  didn't.  We  know  how 
to  talk  to  children.  So  we  went  on : 

"  George  Washington.     His — " 

"  Who  gave  him  the  little  hatchet?" 

"  His  father.     And  his  father—" 

"Whose  father?" 

"  George  Washington's." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes,  George  Washington.  And  his 
father  told  him — " 

"Told  who?" 

"Told  George." 

"  Oh,  yes,  George.'* 

And  we  went  on,  just  as  patient  and  as 
pleasant  as  you  could  imagine.  We  took  up 
the  story  right  where  the  boy  interrupted, 
for  we  could  see  he  was  just  crazy  to  hear 
the  end  of  it.  We  said  : 

"  And  he  was  told — " 

"  George  told  him  ?  "  queried  Clarence 

"  No,  his  father  told  George—" 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes ;  told  him  he  must  be  careful  with 
the  hatchet-  " 

"Who  must  be  careful?" 

"  George  must." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes ;  must  be  careful  with  his  hatchet 

_»» 

"What  hatchet?" 

"Why,  George's." 

"Oh!" 

"  With  the  hatchet,  and  not  cut  himself 
with  it,  or  drop  it  in  the  cistern,  or  leave 
it  out  in  the  grass  all  night.  So  George 
went  round  cutting  everything  he  could 
reach  with  his  hatchet.  And  at  last  he 
came  to  a  splendid  apple-tree,  his  father's 
favorite,  and  cut  it  down  and — " 

"Who  cut  it  down?" 

"  George  did." 

"  Oh ! " 

"  But  his  father  came  home  and  saw  it 
the  first  thing,  and — " 

"Saw  the  hatchet?" 

"  No,  saw  the  apple-tree.    And  he  said, 

Who  has  cut  down  my  favorite  apple- 
tree  ?  " 

"What  apple-tree?" 

"George's  father's.  And  everybody 
said  they  didn't  know  anything  about  it 
and — " 


864 


A  QUEEE  POET. 


"  Anything  about  what  ?  " 

"  The  apple-tree." 

"Oh  I" 

"  And  George  came  up  and  heard  them 
talking  about  it — " 

"  Heard  who  talking  about  it?  " 

"  Heard  his  father  and  the  men." 

"  What  were  they  talking  about?" 

"  About  this  apple-tree." 

"What  apple-tree?" 

"The  favorite  tree  that  George  cut 
down." 

"  George  who  ?  " 

"  George  Washington." 

"Oh!" 

"  So  George  came  up  and  heard  them 
talking  about  it,  and  he — " 

"  What  did  he  cut  it  down  for  ?  " 

"  Just  to  try  his  little  hatchet." 

"  Whose  little  hatchet? " 

"  Why,  his  own,  the  one  his  father  gave 
him." 

"Gave  who?" 

"  Why,  George  Washington.'* 

"Oh  I" 

"So  George  came  up  and  he  said, 
1  Father,  I  cannot  tell  a  lie,  I — ' " 

"Who  couldn't  tell  a  lie?" 

"  Why,  George  Washington.  He  said, 
'  Father,  I  cannot  tell  a  lie.  It  was — '  " 

"His  father  couldn't?" 

"Why,  no  ;  George  couldn't." 

"Oh I  George?  oh,  yes!" 

"  '  It  was  I  cut  down  your  apple-tree :  I 
did—' " 

"His  father  did?" 

"  No,  no ;  it  was  George  said  this." 

"  Said  he  cut  his  father  ?" 

''No,  no,  no;  said  he  cut  down  his 
apple-tree.'* 

George's  apple-tree  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  his  father's." 

"Oh!" 

"  He  said—" 

"His  father  said?" 

"  No,  no,  no ;  George  said.  *  Father,  I 
cannot  tell  a  lie,  I  did  it  with  my  little 
hatchet.'  And  his  father  said :  '  Noble 
boy,  I  would  rather  lose  a  thousand  trees 
than  have  you  tell  a  lie.'  " 

"George  did?" 

"  No,  his  father  said  that." 

"Said  he'd  rather  have  a  thousand 
apple-trees?" 

"No,  no,  no;  said  he'd  rather  lose  a 
thousand  apple-trees  than — " 

"  Said  he'd  rather  George  would  ?  " 

"  No,  said  he'd  rather  he  would  than 
have  him  lie." 


"Oh I  George  would  rather  have  hit 
father  lie?" 

We  are  patient  and  we  love  children, 
but  if  Mrs.  Caruthers  hadn't  come  and  got 
her  prodigy  at  that  critical  juncture,  we 
don't  believe  all  Burlington  could  have 
pulled  us  out  of  the  snarl.  And  as  Clarence 
Alencon  de  Marchemont  Caruthers  pat- 
tered down  the  stairs  we  heard  him  telling 
his  ma  about  a  boy  who  had  a  father 
named  George,  and  he  told  him  to  cut 
down  an  apple-tree,  and  he  said  he'd 
rather  tell  a  thousand  lies  than  cut  down 
one  apple-tree. 

ROBKKT  J.  BURDETT*. 


A  QUEER  POET. 

A  WHITER  in  Oliver  Optic's  Magazine, 
speaking  of  the  poet  Milnes,  says :  "  Many, 
many  stories  are  told  of  his  peculiarities, 
among  which  is  an  occasional  indulgence 
iu  a  childish  affectation,  which  would  al- 
most amount  to  imbecility,  if  it  were  not 
assumed.  I  remember  two  instances, 
which,  both  happening  on  the  same  even- 
ing, raised  a  good  laugh  at  his  expense. 
The  first  of  these  niaiseries  consisted  in 
entering  the  room,  in  which  a  large  party 
was  gathered  beneath  the  hospitable  roof 
of  Mrs.  Basil  Montague,  accoutred  in  hia 
court  dress,  with  sword,  and  all  the  other 
'fixin's,'  as  the  Yankees  would  say,  of 
that  absurd  and  pretentious  uniform. 
Observing  two  very  charming  ladies,  with 
whom  he  had  not  the  slightest  acquaint- 
ance, seated  on  a  couch  at  one  end  of  the 
room,  engaged  evidently  in  a  tete-a-tdte, 
'the  member  for  Parnassus,'  as  Daniel 
O'Connell  once  scornfully  termed  him  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  advanced  to 
where  they  were  seated,  and  adjusting  his 
sword,  he  knelt  midway  between  them, 
listened  blandly  to  their  conversation, 
first  turning  to  one  and  then  to  the  other, 
and  joining  in  as  a  sort  of  Greek  chorus 
on  a  diminutive  scale.  Mrs.  Basil  Mon- 
tague, with  whom  Milnes  was  an  especial 
favorite,  saw  the  peril  of  her  pet,  and 
rushed  to  his  rescue. 

"  My  dear  lady  Dash,  and  my  dear  lady 
Dish  "  (we  think  it  necessary  to  add  that 
these  are  not  the  real  names  of  the  "  fair 
astonished,"  there  being  no  such  titles  in 
Debrett's  Peerage,)  "don't  be  alarmed 
This  is  uay  young  protigif  (Mrs.  Mon« 


A  SEASONABLE  PHILANTHROPIST. 


255 


tague  was  old  enough  to  be  Milnes's 
grandmother),  "  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes. 
He  won't  hurt  you ;  but  he  is  always 
doing  the  most  absurd  things  in  the 
world.  But  he  is  a  dear  fellow  and  writes 
the  sweetest  verses  in  the  world.  Pray 
send  your  album  to  him.''  Milnes  took 
advantage  of  this  little  diversion  in  his 
favor,  and  rose  to  his  feet,  to  be  intro- 
duced to  the  hitherto  astonished  ladies. 
Sydney  Smith,  the  great  clerical  wit,  who 
was  seated  at  a  little  distance,  and  had 
seen  and  heard  all,  observed  to  Leigh 
Hunt,  with  whom  he  was  then  engaged  in 
conversation,  "Well,  my  dear  Hunt,  I 
have  often  heard  of  the  cool  of  the  even- 
ing, but  have  never  seen  it  till  now  ;  and 
it  is  a  great  deal  cooler  than  I  had  ima- 
gined." 

The  second  niaiserie  of  the  member  for 
Pontefract  and  Parnassus,  on  this  special 
evening,  happened  only  some  half-hour 
afterwards,  when,  advancing  to  the  great 
clerical  wit,  he  said, 

"  My  dear  Sydney,  I  promised  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  to  drop  in  at  Mrs. 
Howley's  reception  to-night.  If  you  are 
going,  we  may  as  well  go  together.'' 

"I  am  not  invited,"  replied  Sydney 
Smith ;  "  but  I  will  give  you  a  word  of 
advice.  I  am  very  much  flattered  at  your 
addressing  me  as  Sydney ;  but,  for  hea- 
ven's sake,  don't  call  the  Primate  of  all 
England  '  Billy  ;'  he  might  not  like  it." 

Our  readers  must  bear  in  mind  that 
the  private  name  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  was  "William  Howley,1'  and 
that  he  was  about  eighty  years  old. 


A  MUSICAL  DUEL. 

THE  following  story  is  told  of  Mozart 
at  the  time  when  he  was  a  pupil  of 
Haydn:  Haydn  had  challenged  Mozart 
to  compose  a  piece  of  music  which  he 
could  not  play  at  sight.  Mozart  accepted 
the  banter,  and  a  champagne  supper  was 
to  be  the  forfeit.  Everything  being  ar- 
ranged between  the  two  composers,  Mo- 
zart took  his  pen  and  a  sheet  of  paper, 
and  in  five  minutes  dashed  off  a  piece 
of  music,  and,  much  to  the  surprise  of 
Haydn,  handed  it  to  him,  saying,  "  There 
is  a  piece  of  music  which  you  cannot 
play,  and  I  can ;  you  are  to  give  the  first 
trial." 


Haydn  smiled  contemptuously  at  the 
visionary  presumption  of  his  pupil,  and 
placing  the  notes  before  him,  struck 
the  keys  of  the  instrument.  Surprised  at 
its  simplicity  he  dashed  away  till  he 
reached  the  middle  of  the  piece,  when, 
stopping  all  at  once  he  exclaimed,  "  How's 
this,  Mozart?  How's  this?  Here  my 
hands  are  stretched  out  to  both  ends  of 
the  piano,  yet  there  is  a  middle  key  to  be 
touched.  Nobody  can  play  such  music, — 
not  even  the  composer  himself."  Mozart 
smiled  at  the  half-excited  indignation  and 
perplexity  of  the  great  master,  and  taking 
the  seat  he  had  quitted,  struck  the  instru- 
ment with  such  an  air  of  self-assurance 
that  Haydn  began  to  think  himself  duped. 
Running  along  the  simple  passages,  he 
came  to  that  part  which  his  teacher  had 
pronounced  impossible  to  be  played. 
Mozart,  it  must  be  remarked,  was  favored, 
or  at  least  endowed,  with  an  extremely 
long  nose.  Reaching  the  difficult  pas- 
sage, he  stretched  both  hands  to  the  ex- 
treme long  ends  of  the  piano,  and,  lean- 
ing forward,  bobbed  his  nose  against  the 
middle  key  which  nobody  could  play. 
Haydn  burst  into  an  immoderate  fit  of 
laughter,  and  after  acknowledging  he  wa? 
beaten,  he  declared  that  Nature  had  en- 
dowed Mozart  with  a  capacity  for  music« 
which  he  had  never  discovered. 


A  SEASONABLE  PHILANTHRO- 
PIST. 

What  does  he  do  when  sidewalks  glare, 
And  every  brick  seems  but  a  snare 
To  catch  the  passer  unaware  ? 
He  spreads  his  ashes. 

And  when  down  town  we  creeping  go, 
And  trembling  tread  a  tottering  row, 
With  honest  features  all  aglow, 
He  spreads  his  ashes. 

Long  may  he  live,  that  man  of  soul  I 
Filled  be  his  bin  with  red  hot  coal, 
Till  halos  crown  his  saintly  poll 
Who  spreads  his  ashes. 

And  when  he  leaves  this  world  of  slides, 
And  with  grim  death  serenely  glides, 
May  this  be  heard,  and  naught  besides — • 
"  Peace  to  his  ashes." 


KIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 

A  POSTHUMOUS    WRITING    OF     DIEDRICH 
KNICKERBOCKER. 

By  Woden,  God  of  Saxons, 

From  whence  comes  Wensday,  that  Is  Wodensday, 

Truth  is  a  thing  that  ever  I  will  keep 

Unto  thylke  day  in  which  I  creep  into 

My  sepulchre. — CARTWRIQHT. 

[WASHINGTOX  IRVINO,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
of  modern  author*,  and  one  of  the  earliest  to  shed  lustre 
upon   American  letters,  was  born  in   New  York  city, 
April  3,  1783.     His  earliest  literary  productions  were  a 
number  of  letters  on  dramatic  and    social  topics,  con- 
tributed to  The  Morning  Chronicle,  under  the  nom  de 
plume  of  "  Jonathan  Oldstyle."    After  some  time  de- 
voted to  the  study  of  law  he  travelled  in  Europe  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health.     Beturning  in  1806,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  two  years,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.     The 
following  year  he  began,  in  fellowship  with  his  brother 
William,  and  James  K.  Paulding,  the  publication  of  a 
semi-monthly  magazine,  now  famous  as  the  Salmagundi, 
or  the  Whim- Whams  and  Opinions  of  Launcelot  Lang- 
staff  and  others.     In  1809  was  published  The  History  of 
N*w   York,  by   Diedrlch   Knickerbocker.      Having  no 
inclination  for  law,  Mr.  Irving  engaged  in  commerce 
with  his  brother  as  a  silent  partner,  but  gave  his  time 
to  literature.     In  1815  he  revisited  England,  and  estab- 
lish,' I  a  friendship  with   Campbell  and   Walter  Scott. 
While  there  the  failure  of  his  commercial  house  obliged 
him  to  employ  his  pen  as  a  livelihood.   The  Sketch  Boole, 
portions  of  which  had  appeared  in   New  York,   was 
offered  to  Murray  and  to  Constable,  but  was  declined  by 
lx>th  those  publishers.     Subsequently  Murray  took  it  at 
.£200,  which  sum  he  afterwards  increased  to  £400.    It 
ivas  originally  published  in  1820.     The  author  was  now 
•famous  at  home  and  abroad ;  and   when  Bracebridge 
Hall    was   ready  (in  1822),   Mr.   Murray  offered    1000 
guineas  for  the  copyright  without  having  seen  the  MS. 
For  the  Chronicle  of  the  Conquest  of  Granada  (1829),  he 
gave  £2000,  and  for  the  History  of  the  Life  and  Voyage  of 
Cltrutopher  Columbia   (1831),  3000  guineas.     Tales  of  a 
Traveller,  by  Geoffrey  Crayon,  appeared  in  1824;  and 
The  Alhambra,  in  1832.  In  1829  Mr.  Irving  accepted  the 
post  of  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  American  Embassy 
at  London.     In  1830  he  was  honored  with  one  of  the 
two  fifty-guinea  gold  medals  ordered  by  George  IV.,  to 
be  presented  to  the  two  authors  adjudged  to  have  at- 
tained the  highest  excellence  in  historical  composition ; 
and  the  following  year  he  received  from  the  University 
of  Oxford  the  degree  of  LL.D.  Arriving  at  New  York,  May 
21st,  1832,  after  an  absence  of  seventeen  years,  he  met 
*  reception  which  Edward  Everett   pronounced   "  the 
fairest  triumph  that  has  yet  been  accorded  to  literary 
desert  in  the  New  World."  His  subsequent  publications 
wore  a  Tour  on  the  Prairies  (1836) ;  Recollections  of  Ab- 
bolxford  and  Newstead  Abbey  ;  Legends  of  the  Conquest  of 
i%>ai»;  Astoria  (1836);  Adventures  of   Capt.  Bonnevilte, 


c.  s.  A.  (1837) ;  a  number  of  Tales  and  Sketchei  undw 
the  title  of  Wolferfs  Roost  (1855) ;  Biography  and  Poeti- 
cal Remains  of  Margaret  Miller  Davidson  (1841) ;  Oliver 
Goldsmith  (1849) ;  Mahomet  and  his  Successors  (1849-60)  ; 
The  Life  of  George  Washinghni  (1855-6). 

Edward  Everett,  advising  the  young  aspirant  after 
literary  distinction,  says  :  "  If  he  wishes  to  study  a  style 
which  possesses  the  characteristic  beauties  of  Addisom, 
its  ease,  simplicity,  and  elegance,  with  greater  accuracy, 
point  and  spirit,  let  him  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the 
volumes  of  Irving." 

From  1842  to  1846,  Mr.  Irving  was  United  States  Min- 
ister to  Spain.  Returning  home  in  the  latter  year,  he 
spent  the  remaining  years  of  his  honored  life  in  his 
charming  retreat  "  Sunnyside,"  near  Tarrytown,  N.  Y., 
on  the  bunki  of  the  Hudson,  where  he  died  Nov.  28, 
1859.  He  never  married.] 

WHOEVER  has  made  a  voyage  up  the 
Hudson,  must  remember  the  Kaatskill 
mountains.  They  are  a  dismembered 
branch  of  the  great  Appalachian  family, 
and  are  seen  away  to  the  west  of  the 
river,  swelling  up  to  a  noble  height,  and 
lording  it  over  the  surrounding  country. 
Every  change  of  season,  every  change  of 
weather,  indeed,  every  hour  of  the  day, 
produces  some  change  in  the  magical  hues 
and  shapes  of  these  mountains ;  and  they 
are  regarded  by  all  the  good  wives,  far 
and  near,  as  perfect  barometers.  When 
the  weather  is  fair  and  settled,  they  are 
clothed  in  blue  and  purple,  and  print  their 
bold  outlines  on  the  clear  evening  sky ; 
but  sometimes,  when  the  rest  of  the  land- 
scape is  cloudless,  they  will  gather  a  hood 
of  gray  vapors  about  their  summits, 
which,  in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun, 
will  glow  and  light  up  like  a  crown  of 
glory. 

At  the  foot  of  these  fairy  mountains, 
the  voyager  may  have  descried  the  light 
smoke  curling  up  from  a  village,  whose 
shingle  roofs  gleam  among  the  trees,  just 
where  the  blue  tints  of  the  upland  melt 
away  into  the  fresh  green  of  the  nearer 
landscape.  It  is  a  little  village  of  great  an- 
tiquity, having  been  founded  by  some  of 
the  Dutch  colonists,  in  the  early  times  of 
the  province,  just  about  the  beginning  of 
the  government  of  the  good  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant  (may  he  rest  in  peace!),  and  there 
were  some  of  the  houses  of  the  original 
settlers  standing  within  a  few  years,  built 
of  small  yellow  bricks  brought  from  Hol- 
land, having  latticed  windows  and  gable 
fronts,  surmounted  with  weathercocks. 

In  that  same  village,  and  in  one  of  these 
very  houses  (which  to  tell  the  precise 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


337 


truth,  was  sadly  time-worn  and  weather- 
beaten),  there  lived  many  years  since, 
while  the  country  was  yet  a  province  of 
Great  Britain,  a  simple  good-natured  fel- 
low, of  the  name  of  Rip  Van  Winkle.  He 
was  a  descendant  of  the  Van  Winkles  who 
figured  so  gallantly  in  the  chivalrous  days 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  and  accompanied  him 
to  the  siege  effort  Christina.  He  inherited, 
however,  but  little  of  the  martial  character 
of  his  ncestors.  I  have  observed  that  he 
was  a  dimple  good-natured  man  ;  he  was 
moreover  a  kind  neighbor,  and  an  obedi- 
ent henpecked  husband.  Indeed,  to  the 
latter  circumstance  might  be  owing  that 
meekness  of  spirit  which  gained  him  such 
universal  popularity ;  for  those  men  are 
most  apt  to  be  obsequious  and  conciliating 
abroad,  who  are  under  the  discipline  of 
shrews  at  home.  Their  tempers,  doubtless, 
are  rendered  pliant  and  malleable  in  the 
fiery  furnace  of  domestic  tribulation,  and 
a  curtain  lecture  is  worth  all  the  sermons 
in  the  world  for  teaching  the  virtues  of 
patience  and  long-suffering.  A  termagant 
wife  may,  therefore,  in  some  respects,  be 
considered  a  tolerable  blessing  ;  and  if  so, 
Rip  Van  Winkle  was  thrice  blessed. 

Certain  it  is,  that  he  was  a  great  favor- 
ite among  all  the  good  wives  of  the  village, 
who,  as  usual  with  the  amiable  sex,  took 
his  part  in  all  family  squabbles,  and  never 
failed,  whenever  they  talked  those  matters 
over  in  their  evening  gossipings,  to  lay  all 
the  blame  on  Dame  Van  Winkle.  The 
children  of  the  village,  too,  would  shout 
with  joy  whenever  he  approached.  He 
assisted  at  their  sports,  made  their  play- 
things, taught  them  to  fly  kites  and  shoot 
marbles,  and  told  them  long  stories  of 
ghosts,  witches,  and  Indians.  Whenever 
he  went  dodging  about  the  village,  he  was 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  them,  hanging 
on  his  skirts,  clambering  on  his  back,  and 
playing  a  thousand  tricks  on  him  with  im- 
punity ;  and  not  a  dog  would  bark  at  him 
throughout  the  neighborhood. 

The  great  error  in  Eip's  composition 
was  an  insuperable  aversion  to  all  kinds 
of  profitable  labor.  It  could  not  be  from 
the  want  of  assiduity  or  perseverance  ;  for 
he  would  sit  on  a  wet  rock,  with  a  rod  as 
long  and  heavy  as  a  Tartar's  lance,  and 
fish  all  day  without  a  murmur,  even 
though  he  should  not  be  encouraged  by  a 
single  nibble.  He  would  carry  a  fowling- 
piece  on  his  shoulder,  for  hours  together, 
tiudging  through  woods  and  swamps,  and 
VOL.  n — w.  H. 


up  hill  and  down  dale,  to  shoot  a  few 
squirrels  or  wild  pigeons.  He  would  never 
refuse  to  assist  a  neighbor  even  in  the 
roughest  toil,  and  was  a  foremost  man  at  all 
country  frolics  for  husking  Indian  corn, 
or  building  stone  fences.  The  women  of 
the  village,  too,  used  to  employ  him  to  run 
their  errands,  and  to  do  such  little  odd 
jobs  as  their  less  obliging  husbands  would 
not  do  for  them ; — in  a  word,  Rip  was 
ready  to  attend  to  anybody's  business  but 
his  own  ;  but  as  to  doing  family  duty,  and 
keeping  his  farm  in  order,  he  found  it 
impossible. 

In  fact  he  declared  it  was  no  use  to 
work  on  his  farm ;  it  was  the  most  pesti- 
lent little  piece  of  ground  in  the  whole 
country  ;  every  thing  about  it  went  wrong, 
and  would  go  wrong  in  spite  of  him.  Hia 
fences  were  continually  falling  to  pieces  ; 
his  cow  would  either  go  astray,  or  get 
among  the  cabbages  ;  weeds  were  sure  to 
grow  quicker  in  his  fields  than  any  where 
else  ;  the  rain  always  made  a  point  of  set- 
ting in  just  as  he  had  some  out-door  work  to 
do ;  so  that  though  his  patrimonial  estate 
had  dwindled  away  under  his  manage- 
ment, acre  by  acre,  until  there  was  little 
more  left  than  a  mere  patch  of  Indian 
corn  and  potatoes,  yet  it  was  the  worst  con- 
ditioned farm  in  the  neighborhood. 

His  children,  too,  were  as  ragged  and 
wild  as  if  they  belonged  to  nobody.  His 
son,  Rip,  an  urchin  begotten  in  his  own 
likeness,  promised  to  inherit  the  habits, 
with  the  old  clothes  of  his  father.  He 
was  generally  seen  trooping  like  a  colt  at 
his  mother's  heels,  equipped  in  a  pair  of 
his  father's  cast-off  galligaskins,  which  he 
had  much  ado  to  hold  up  with  one 
hand,  as  a  fine  lady  does  her  train  in  bad 
weather. 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  however,  was  one  of 
those  happy  mortals,  of  foolish,  well-oiled 
dispositions,  who  take  the  world  easy; 
eat  white  bread  or  brown,  whichever  can 
be  got  with  least  thought  or  trouble,  and 
would  rather  starve  on  a  penny  than  work 
for  a  pound.  If  left  to  himself,  he  would 
have  whistled  life  away,  in  perfect 
contentment ;  but  his  wife  kept  continu- 
ally dinning  in  his  ears  about  his  idleness, 
his  carelessness,  and  the  ruin  he  was 
bringing  on  his  family. 

Morning,  noon,  and  night,  her  tongue 
was  incessantly  going,  and  every  thing  he 
said  or  did  was  sure  to  produce  a  torrent 
of  household  eloquence.  Rip  had  but  one 

17 


25. 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


way  of  replying  to  all  lectures  of  the  kind, 
and  that,  by  1'requeut  use,  had  grown  into 
a  habit.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
shook  his  head,  cast  up  his  eyes,  but  said 
nothing.  This,  however,  always  pro- 
voked a  fresh  volley  from  his  wife,  so  that 
he  was  fain  to  draw  off  his  forces,  and  take 
to  the  outside  of  the  house — the  only  side 
which,  in  truth,  belongs  to  a  henpecked 
husband. 

Rip's  sole  domestic  adherent  was  his 
dog  Wolf,  who  was  as  much  henpecked  as 
his  master ;  for  Dame  Van  Winkle  re- 
garded them  as  companions  in  idleness, 
and  even  looked  upon  Wolf  with  an  evil 
eye,  as  the  cause  of  his  master's  going  so 
often  astray.  True  it  is,  in  all  points  of 
spirit  befitting  an  honorable  dog,  he  was  as 
courageous  an  animal  as  ever  scoured  the 
woods — but  what  courage  can  withstand 
the  ever-during  and  all-besetting  terrors 
of  a  woman's  tongue  ?  The  moment  Wolf 
entered  the  house,  his  crest  fell,  his  tail 
drooped  to  the  ground,  or  curled  between 
his  legs,  he  sneaked  about  with  a  gallows 
air,  casting  many  a  sidelong  glance  at  Dame 
Van  Winkle,  and  at  the  least  flourish  of  a 
broomstick  or  ladle,  he  would  fly  to  the 
door  with  yelping  precipitation. 

Times  grew  worse  and  worse  with  Rip 
Van  Winkle,  as  years  of  matrimony  rolled 
on  :  a  tart  temper  never  mellows  with  age, 
and  a  sharp  tongue  is  the  only  edge  tool 
that  grows  keener  with  constant  use.  For 
a  long  while  he  used  to  console  himself, 
when  driven  from  home,  by  frequenting  a 
kind  of  perpetual  club  of  the  sages,  phil- 
osophers, and  other  idle  personages  of  the 
village,  which  held  its  sessions  on  a  bench 
before  a  small  inn,  designated  by  a  rubi- 
cund portrait  of  his  majesty  George  the 
Third.  Here  they  used  to  sit  in  the  shade, 
of  a  long  lazy  summer's  day,  talking  list- 
lessly over  village  gossip,  or  telling  endless 
sleepy  stories  about  nothing.  But  it  would 
have  been  worth  any  statesman's  money 
to  have  heard  the  profound  discussions 
which  sometimes  took  place,  when  by 
chance  an  old  newspaper  fell  into  their 
hands,  from  some  passing  traveller.  How 
solemnly  they  would  listen  to  the  contents, 
as  drawled  out  by  Derrick  Van  Bummel, 
the  schoolmaster,  a  dapper  learned  little 
man,  who  was  not  to  be  daunted  by  the 
most  gigantic  word  in  the  dictionary ;  and 
how  sagely  they  would  deliberate  upon 
public  events  some  months  after  they  had 
taken  place. 


The  opinions  of  this  junto  were  com- 
pletely controlled  by  Nicholas  Vedder,  a 
patriarch  of  the  village,  and  landlord  of 
the  inn,  at  the  door  of  which  he  took  his 
seat  from  morning  till  night,  just  moving 
sufficiently  to  avoid  the  sun,  and  keep  in 
the  shade  of  a  large  tree ;  so  that  the 
neighbors  could  tell  the  hour  by  his 
movements  as  accurately  as  by  a  sun-dial. 
It  is  true,  he  was  rarely  heard  to  speak, 
but  smoked  his  pipe  incessantly.  His 
adherents,  however  (for  every  great  man 
has  his  adherents),  perfectly  understood 
him,  and  knew  how  to  gather  his  opinions. 
When  any  thing  that  was  read  or  related 
displeased  him,  he  was  observed  to  smoke 
his  pipe  vehemently,  and  to  send  forth 
short,  frequent,  and  angry  puffs  ;  but  when 
pleased,  he  would  inhale  the  smoke  slowly 
and  tranquilly,  and  emit  it  in  light  and 
placid  clouds,  and  sometimes  taking  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  letting  the  fra- 
grant vapor  curl  about  his  nose,  would 
gravely  nod  his  head  in  token  of  perfect 
approbation. 

From  even  this  stronghold  the  unlucky 
Rip  was  at  length  routed  by  his  terma- 
gant wife,  who  would  suddenly  break  in 
upon  the  tranquillity  of  the  assemblage, 
and  call  the  members  all  to  nought ;  nor 
was  that  august  personage,  Nicholas 
Vedder  himself,  sacred  from  the  daring 
tongue  of  this  terrible  virago,  who  charged 
him  outright  with  encouraging  her  hus- 
band in  habits  of  idleness. 

Poor  Rip  was  at  last  reduced  almost  to 
despair,  and  his  only  alternative  to  escape 
from  the  labor  of  the  farm  and  the  cla- 
mor of  his  wife,  was  to  take  gun  in  hand, 
and  stroll  away  into  the  woods.  Here  he 
would  sometimes  seat  himself  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree,  and  share  the  contents  of  his 
wallet  with  Wolf,  with  whom  he  sympa- 
thized as  a  fellow-sufferer  in  persecution. 
"  Poor  Wolf,"  he  would  say,  "  thy  mistress 
leads  thee  a  dog's  life  of  it;  but  never 
mind,  my  lad,  whilst  I  live  thou  shalt  never 
want  a  friend  to  stand  by  thee ! "  Wolf 
would  wag  his  tail,  look  wistfully  in  his 
master's  face,  and  if  dogs  can  feel  pity,  I 
verily  believe  he  reciprocated  the  senti- 
ment with  all  his  heart. 

In  a  long  ramble  of  the  kind,  on  a  fine 
autumnal  day,  Rip  had  unconsciously 
scrambled  to  one  of  the  highest  parts  of 
the  Kaatskill  mountains.  He  was  after 
his  favorite  sport  of  squirrel-shooting, 
and  the  still  solitudes  had  echoed  and  re- 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


259 


echoed  with  the  reports  of  his  gun.  Pant- 
ing and  fatigued,  he  threw  himself,  late 
iu  the  afternoon,  on  a  green  knoil  covered 
with  mountain  herbage,  that  crowned  the 
brow  of  a  precipice.  From  an  opening  be- 
tween the  trees,  he  could  overlook  all  the 
lower  country  for  many  a  mile  of  rich 
woodland.  He  saw  at  a  distance  the  lordly 
Hudson,  far,  far,  below  him,  moving  on 
its  silent  but  majestic  course,  with  the  re- 
flection of  a  purple  cloud,  or  the  sail  of  a 
lagging  bark,  here  and  there  sleeping  on 
its  glassy  bosom,  and  at  last  losing  itself 
in  the  blue  highlands. 

On  the  other  side  he  looked  down  into 
a  deep  mountain  glen,  wild,  lonely,  and 
shagged,  the  bottom  filled  with  fragments 
from  the  impending  cliffs,  and  scarcely 
lighted  by  the  reflected  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  For  some  time  Kip  lay  musing  on 
this  scene ;  evening  was  gradually  ad- 
vancing ;  the  mountains  began  to  throw 
their  long  blue  shadows  over  the  valleys ; 
he  saw  that  it  would  be  dark  long  before 
he  could  reach  the  village  ;  and  he  heaved 
a  heavy  sigh  when  he  thought  of  en- 
countering the  terrors  of  Dame  Van 
Winkle. 

As  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  heard  a 
voice  from  a  distance,  hallooing.  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle!  Rip  Van  Winkle!"  He 
looked  around,  but  could  see  nothing  but 
a  crow  winging  its  solitary  flight  across 
the  mountain.  He  thought  his  fancy 
must  have  deceived  him,  and  turned  again 
to  descend,  when  he  heard  the  same  cry 
ring  through  the  still  evening  air ;  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle !  Rip  Van  Winkle !  "—at  the 
same  time  Wolf  bristled  up  his  back,  and 
giving  a  low  growl,  skulked  to  his  master's 
side,  looking  fearfully  down  into  the  glen. 
Rip  now  felt  a  vague  apprehension  steal- 
ing over  him  :  he  looked  anxiously  in  the 
same  direction,  and  perceived  a  strange 
figure  slowly  toiling  up  the  rocks,  and 
bending  under  the  weight  of  something 
he  carried  on  his  back.  He  was  surprised 
to  see  any  human  being  in  this  lonely  and 
unfrequented  place,  but  supposing  it  to  be 
some  one  of  the  neighborhood  in  need  of 
his  assistance,  he  hastened  downto  yield  it. 

On  nearer  approach,  he  was  still  more 
surprised  at  the  singularity  of  the 
stranger's  appearance.  He  was  a  short 
square-built  old  fellow,  with  thick  bushy 
hair  and  grizzled  beard.  His  dress  was  of 
the  antique  Dutch  fashion — a  cloth  jerkin 
strapped  round  the  waist — several  pair  of 


breeches,  the  outer  one  of  ample  volume, 
decorated  with  rows  of  buttons  down  the 
sides,  and  bunches  at  the  knees.  He  bore 
on  his  shoulders  a  stout  keg,  that  seemed 
full  of  liquor,  and  made  signs  for  Rip  to 
approach  and  assist  him  with  the  load. 
Though  rather  shy  and  distrustful  of  this 
new  acquaintance,  Rip  complied  with  his 
usual  alacrity,  and  mutually  relieving 
each  other,  they  clambered  up  a  narrow 
gully,  apparently  the  dry  bed  of  a  moun- 
tain torrent.  As  they  ascended,  Rip  every 
now  and  then  heard  long  rolling  peals, 
like  distant  thunder,  that  seemed  to  issue 
out  of  a  deep  ravine,  or  rather  cleft  be- 
tween lofty  rocks,  toward  which  their 
rugged  path  conducted.  He  paused  for 
an  instant,  but  supposing  it  to  be  the 
muttering  of  one  of  those  transient 
thunder-showers  which  often  take  place 
in  mountain  heights,  he  proceeded.  Pass- 
ing through  the  ravine,  they  came  to  a 
hollow,  like  a  small  amphitheatre,  sur- 
rounded by  perpendicular  precipices,  over 
the  brinks  of  which,  impending  trees  shot 
their  branches,  so  that  you  only  caught 
glimpses  of  the  azure  sky,  and  the  bright 
evening  cloud.  During  the  whole  time, 
Rip  and  his  companion  hadv  labored  on 
in  silence ;  for  though  the  former  mar- 
velled greatly  what  could  be  the  object 
of  carrying  a  keg  of  liquor  up  this  wild 
mountain,  yet  there  was  something  strange 
and  incomprehensible  about  the  un- 
known, that  inspired  awe,  and  checked 
familiarity. 

On  entering  the  amphitheatre,  new  ob- 
jects of  wonder  presented  themselves.  On 
a  level  spot  in  the  centre  was  a  company 
of  odd-looking  personages  playing  at  nine- 
pins. They  were  dressed  in  a  quaint  out- 
landish fashion :  some  wore  short  doub- 
lets, others  jerkins,  with  long  knives  in 
their  belts,  and  most  of  them  had  enor- 
mous breeches,  of  similar  style  with  that 
of  the  guide's.  Their  visages,  too,  were 

Eeculiar :  one  had  a  large  head,  broad 
ice,  and  small  piggish  eyes ;  the  face  of 
another  seemed  to  consist  entirely  of  nose, 
and  was  surmounted  by  a  white  sugar- 
loaf  hat,  set  off  with  a  little  red  cock's 
tail.  They  all  had  beards,  of  various 
shapes  and  colors.  There  was  one  who 
seemed  to  be  the  commander.  He  was  a 
stout  old  gentleman,  with  a  weather- 
beaten  countenance;  he  wore  a  laced 
doublet,  broad  belt  and  hanger,  high- 
crowned  hat  and  feather,  red  stockings, 


860 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


«tnd  high-heeled  shoes,  with  roses  in  them. 
The  whole  group  reminded  Eip  of  the 
figures  in  an  old  Flemish  painting,  in  the 
parlor  of  Dominie  Van  Schaick,  the 
village  parson,  and  which  had  been 
brought  over  from  Holland  at  the  time  of 
the  settlement. 

What  seemed  particularly  odd  to  Rip, 
was,  that  though  these  folks  were  evidently 
amusing  themselves,  yet  they  maintained 
the  gravest  faces,  the  most  mysterious 
silence,  and  were,  withal,  the  most  melan- 
choly party  of  pleasure  he  had  ever 
witnessed.  Nothing  interrupted  the  still- 
ness of  the  scene  but  the  noise  of  the  balls, 
which,  whenever  they  were  rolled,  echoed 
along  the  mountains  like  rumbling  peals 
of  thunder. 

As  Rip  and  his  companion  approached 
them,  they  suddenly  desisted  from  their 
play,  and  stared  at  him  with  such  a  fixed 
statue-like  gaze,  and  such  strange,  un- 
couth, lack-lustre  countenances,  that  his 
heart  turned  within  him,  and  his  knees 
smote  together.  His  companion  now 
emptied  the  contents  of  the  keg  into  large 
flagons,  and  made  signs  to  him  to  wait 
upon  the  company.  He  obeyed  with  fear 
and  trembling  ;  they  quaffed  the  liquor  in 
profound  silence,  and  then  returned  to 
their  game. 

By  degrees,  Rip's  awe  and  apprehension 
subsided.  He  even  ventured,  when  no 
eye  was  fixed  upon  him,  to  taste  the 
beverage,  which  he  found  had  much  of  the 
flavor  of  excellent  Hollands.  He  was 
naturally  a  thirsty  soul,  and  was  soon 
tempted  to  repeat  the  draught.  One  taste 
provoked  another,  and  he  reiterated  his 
visits  to  the  flagon  so  often,  that  at  length 
his  senses  were  overpowered,  his  eyes 
swam  in  his  head,  his  head  gradually  de- 
clined, and  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

On  waking,  he  found  himself  on  the 
green  knoll  from  whence  he  had  first  seen 
the  old  man  of  the  glen.  He  rubbed  his 
eyes — it  was  a  bright  sunny  morning. 
The  birds  were  hopping  and  twittering 
among  the  bushes,  and  the  eagle  was 
wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure 
mountain  breeze.  "  Surely,"  thought  Rip, 
"  I  have  not  slept  here  all  night."  He  re- 
called the  occurrences  before  he  fell 
asleep.  The  strange  man  with  the  keg  of 
liquor — the  mountain  ravine — the  wild 
retreat  among  the  rocks — the  wo-begone 
party  at  nine-pins — the  flagon — "  Oh ! 
that  wicked  flagon ! "  thought  Rip — 


"  what  excuse  shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van 
Winkle?" 

He  looked  round  for  his  gun,  but  in  place 
of  the  clean,  well-oiled  fowling-piece,  he 
found  an  old  firelock  lying  by  him,  the 
barrel  encrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  falling 
off,  and  the  stock  worm-eaten.  He  now 
suspected  that  the  grave  roysters  of  the 
mountain  had  put  a  trick  upon  him,  and 
having  dosed  him  with  liquor,  had  robbed 
him  of  his  gun.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared, 
but  he  might  have  strayed  away  after  a 
squirrel  or  partridge.  He  whistled  after 
him,  and  shouted  his  name,  but  all  in  vain  ; 
the  echoes  repeated  his  whistle  and  shout, 
but  no  dog  was  to  be  seen. 

He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of 
the  last  evening's  gambol,  and  if  he  met 
with  any  of  the  party,  to  demand  his  dog 
and  gun.  As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found 
himself  stiff  in  the  joints,  and  wanting  in 
his  usual  activity.  "These  mountain  beds 
do  not  agree  with  me,"  thought  Rip, 
"  and  if  this  frolic  should  lay  me  up  with 
a  fit  of  the  rheumatism,  I  shall  have  a 
blessed  time  with  Dame  Van  Winkle." 
With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  into  the 
glen  ;  he  found  the  gully  up  which  he  and 
his  companion  had  ascended  the  pre- 
ceding evening ;  but  to  his  astonishment  a 
mountain  stream  was  now  foaming  down 
it,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  filling 
the  glen  with  babbling  murmurs.  He, 
however,  made  shift  to  scramble  up  its 
sides,  working  his  toilsome  way  through 
thickets  of  birch,  sassafras,  and  witch- 
hazel  ;  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or  en- 
tangled by  the  wild  grape  vines  that 
twisted  their  coils  and  tendrils  from  tree 
to  tree,  and  spread  a  kind  of  network  in 
his  path. 

At  length  he  reached  to  where  the 
ravine  had  opened  through  the  cliffs,  to 
the  amphitheatre ;  but  no  traces  of  such 
opening  remained.  The  rocks  presented 
a  high  impenetrable  waM,  over  which  the 
torrent  came  tumbling  in  a  sheet  of 
feathery  foam,  and  fell  into  a  broad  deep 
basin,  black  from  the  shadows  of  the 
surrounding  forest.  Here,  then,  poor  Rip 
was  brought  to  a  stand.  He  again  called 
and  whistled  after  his  dog ;  he  was  only 
answered  by  the  cawing  of  a  flock  of  idle 
crows,  sporting  high  in  air  about  a  dry 
tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice  ;  and 
who,  secure  in  their  elevation,  seemed  to 
look  down  and  scoff  at  the  poor  man's 
perplexities.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  The 


KIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


261 


morning  was  passing  away,  and  Rip  felt 
famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.  He 
grieved  to  give  up  his  dog  and  gun ;  he 
dreaded  to  meet  his  wife ;  but  it  would 
not  do  to  starve  among  the  mountains. 
He  shook  his  head,  shouldered  the  rusty 
firelock,  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  trou- 
ble and  anxiety,  turned  his  steps  home- 
ward. 

As  he  approached  the  village,  he  met  a 
number  of  people,  but  none  whom  he 
knew,  which  somewhat  surprised  him,  for 
he  had  thought  himself  acquainted  with 
every  one  in  the  country  round.  Their 
dress,  too,  was  of  a  different  fashion  from 
that  to  which  he  was  accustomed.  They 
all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of 
surprise,  and  whenever  they  cast  eyes 
upon  him,  invariably  stroked  their  chins. 
The  constant  recurrence  of  this  gesture, 
induced  Rip,  involuntarily,  to  do  the  same, 
when,  to  his  astonishment,  he  found  his 
beard  had  grown  a  foot  long ! 

He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the 
village.  A  troop  of  strange  children  ran 
at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him,  and  point- 
ing at  his  gray  beard.  The  dogs,  too,  not 
one  of  which  he  recognized  for  an  old  ac- 
quaintance, barked  at  him  as  he  passed. 
The  very  village  was  altered:  it  was  larger 
and  more  populous.  There  were  rows  of 
houses  which  he  had  never  seen  before, 
and  those  which  had  been  his  familiar 
haunts  had  disappeared.  Strange  names 
were  over  the  doors — strange  faces  at  the 
windows — every  thing  was  strange.  His 
mind  now  misgave  him ;  he  began  to  doubt 
whether  both  he  and  the  world  around 
him  were  not  bewitched.  Surely  this  was 
his  native  village,  which  he  had  left  but  a 
day  before.  There  stood  the  Kaatskill 
mountains — there  ran  the  silver  Hudson  at 
a  distance — there  was  every  hill  and  dale 
precisely  as  it  had  always  been — Rip  was 
sorely  perplexed  —  "  That  flagon  last 
night,"  thought  he,  "  has  addled  my  poor 
head  sadly!  '* 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found 
the  way  to  his  own  house,  which  he  ap- 
proached with  silent  awe,  expecting  every 
moment  to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame 
Van  Winkle.  He  found  the  house  gone 
to  decay — the  roof  fallen  in,  the  windows 
shattered,  and  the  doors  off  the  hinges. 
A  half-starved  dog,  that  looked  like  Wolf, 
was  skulking  about  it.  Rip  called  him  by 
name,  but  the  cur  snarled,  showed  his 
teeth,  and  passed  on.  This  was  an  unkind 


cut  indeed. — "  My  very  dog,"  sighed  poor 
Rip,  "has  forgotten  me.'1 

He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the 
truth.  Dame  Van  Winkle  had  always 
kept  in  neat  order.  It  was  empty,  forlorn, 
and  apparently  abandoned.  This  deso- 
lateness  overcame  all  his  connubial  fears 
— he  called  loudly  for  his  wife  and 
children — the  lonely  chambers  rang  for  a 
moment  with  his  voice,  and  then  all  again 
was  silence. 

He  now  hurried  forth,  and  hastened  to 
his  old  resort,  the  village  inn — but  it  too 
was  gone.  A  large  rickety  wooden  building 
stood  in  its  place,  with  great  gaping  win- 
dows, some  of  them  broken,  and  mended 
with  old  hats  and  petticoats,  and  over  the 
door  was  painted,  "The  Union  Hotel,  by 
Jonathan  Doolittle."  Instead  of  the  great 
tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet  little 
Dutch  inn  of  yore,  there  now  was  reared 
a  tall  naked  pole,  with  something  on  the 
top  that  looked  like  a  red  night-cap,  and 
from  it  was  fluttering  a  flag,  on  which  was 
a  singular  assemblage  of  stars  and  stripes 
— all  this  was  strange  and  incompre- 
hensible. He  recognized  on  the  sign, 
however,  the  ruby  face  of  King  George, 
under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many  a 
peaceful  pipe,  but  even  this  was  singularly 
metamorphosed.  The  red  coat  was 
changed  for  one  of  blue  and  buff,  a  sword 
was  held  in  the  hand  instead  of  a  sceptre, 
the  head  was  decorated  with  a  cocked  hat, 
and  underneath  was  painted  in  large 
characters,  GENERAL  WASHINGTON. 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folk 
about  the  door,  but  none  that  Rip  re- 
collected. The  very  character  of  the 
people  seemed  changed.  There  was  a 
busy,  bustling,  disputatious  tone  about  it, 
instead  of  the  accustomed  phlegm  and 
drowsy  tranquillity.  He  looked  in  vain 
for  the  sage  Nicholas  Vedder,  with  his 
broad  face,  double  chin,  and  fair  long 
pipe,  uttering  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke, 
instead  of  idle  speeches ;  or  Van  Bummel, 
the  schoolmaster,  doling  forth  the  con- 
tents of  an  ancient  newspaper.  In  place  of 
these,  a  lean  bilious-looking  fellow,  with 
his  pockets  full  of  handbills,  was  ha- 
ranguing vehemently  about  rights  of 
citizens — election — members  of  Congress 
— liberty — Bunker's  hill — heroes  of  se- 
venty-six— and  other  words,  that  were 
a  perfect  Babylonish  jargon  to  the  be- 
wildered Van  Winkle. 

The  appearance  of  Rip,  with  his  long 


262 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


grizzled  beard,  his  rusty  fowling-piece, 
his  uncouth  dress,  and  the  army  of  women 
and  children  that  had  gathered  at  his 
heels,  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
tavern  politicians.  They  crowded  round 
him,  eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot,  with 
great  curiosity.  The  orator  bustled  up  to 
him,  and  drawing  him  partly  aside,  in- 
quired "on  which  side  he  voted?''  Rip 
stared  in  vacant  stupidity.  Another  short 
but  busy  little  fellow  pulled  him  by  the 
arm,  and  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired  in  his 
ear,  "  whether  he  was  Federal  or  Demo- 
crat." Rip  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  com- 
prehend the  question ;  when  a  knowing, 
self-important  old  gentleman,  in  a  sharp 
cocked  hat,  made  nis  way  through  the 
crowd,  putting  them  to  the  right  and  left 
with  his  elbows  as  he  passed,  and  plant- 
ing himself  before  Van  Winkle,  with  one 
arm  a-kimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his 
cane,  his  keen  eyes  and  sharp  hat  pene- 
trating, as  it  were,  into  his  very  soul, 
demanded  in  an  austere  tone,  "  what 
brought  him  to  the  election  with  a  gun  on 
his  shoulder,  and  a  mob  at  his  heels,  and 
whether  he  meant  to  breed  a  riot  in  the 
village  ?" 

"  Alas !  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip,  some- 
what dismayed,  "  I  am  a  poor  quiet  man, 
a  native  of  the  place,  and  a  loyal  subject 
of  the  King,  God  bless  him  !'' 

Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  by- 
standers— "  a  tory !  a  tory !  a  spy !  a  refugee ! 
hustle  him !  away  with  him ! "  It  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  the  self-im- 
portant man  in  the  cocked  hat  restored 
order ;  and  having  assumed  a  tenfold 
austerity  of  brow,  demanded  again  of  the 
unknown  culprit,  what  he  came  there  for, 
and  whom  he  was  seeking.  The  poor 
man  humbly  assured  him  that  he  meant 
no  harm,  but  merely  came  there  in  search 
of  some  of  his  neighbors,  who  used  to 
keep  about  the  tavern. 

"  Well — who  are  they  ? — name  them." 

Rip  bethought  himself  a  moment,  and 
inquired,  "Where's  Nicholas  Vedder?" 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  little  while, 
when  an  old  man  replied,  in  a  thin  piping 
voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder !  why  he  is  dead 
and  gone  these  eighteen  years!  There 
was  a  wooden  tomb-stone  in  the  church- 
yard that  used  to  tell  all  about  him,  but 
that's  rotten  and  gone  too." 

"Where's  Brom  Butcher?" 

"  Oh,  he  went  off  to  the  army  in  the 
beginning;  of  the  war;  some  say  he  was 


killed  at  the  storming  of  Stony-Point— 
others  say  he  was  drowned  in  the  squall, 
at  the  foot  of  Antony's  Nose.  I  don't 
know — he  never  came  back  again.1' 

"Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  school- 
master?" 

"  He  went  off  to  the  wars  too,  was  a 
great  militia  general,  and  is  now  in  Con- 
gress." 

Rip's  heart  died  away,  at  hearing  of 
these  sad  changes  in  his  home  and  friends, 
and  finding  himself  thus  alone  in  the 
world.  Every  answer  puzzled  him,  too, 
by  treating  of  such  enormous  lapses  of 
time,  and  of  matters  which  he  could 
not  understand:  war — Congress — Stony- 
Point  ! — he  had  no  courage  to  ask  after 
any  more  friends,  but  cried  out  in  des- 
pair, "  does  nobody  here  know  Rip  Van 
Winkle?" 

"  Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle ! "  exclaimed 
two  or  three,  "  Oh,  to  be  sure !  that's  Rip 
Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning  against  the 
tree.1' 

Rip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  coun- 
terpart of  himself  as  he  went  up  the 
mountain ;  apparently  as  lazy,  and  cer- 
tainly as  ragged.  The  poor  fellow  was 
now  completely  confounded.  He  doubted 
his  own  identity,  and  whether  he  was 
himself  or  another  man.  In  the  midst  of 
his  bewilderment,  the  man  in  the  cocked 
hat  demanded  who  he  was,  and  what  was 
his  name? 

"God  knows,"  exclaimed  he  at  his  wit's 
end ;  "  I'm  not  myself — I'm  somebody 
else — that's  me  yonder — no — that's  some- 
body else,  got  into  my  shoes — I  was  my- 
self last  night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the 
mountain,  and  they've  changed  my  gun, 
and  every  thing's  changed,  and  I'm 
changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what's  my  name, 
or  who  I  am ! " 

The  bystanders  began  now  to  look  at 
each  other,  nod,  wink  significantly,  and 
tap  their  fingers  against  their  foreheads. 
There  was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing 
the  gun,  and  keeping  the  old  fellow  from 
doing  mischief;  at  the  very  suggestion  of 
which,  the  self-important  man  with  the 
cocked  hat  retired  with  some  precipita- 
tion. At  this  critical  moment  a  fresh 
comely  woman  passed  through  the  throng 
to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray-bearded  man. 
She  had  a  chubby  child  in  her  arms, 
which,  frightened  at  his  looks,  began  to 
cry.  "  Hush,  Rip,"  cried  she,  "  hush,  you 
little  fool ;  the  old  man  won't  hurt  you." 


RIP  VAN   WINKLE. 


263 


The  name  of  the  child,  the  air  of  the 
mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awakened 
a  train  of  recollections  in  his  mind. 
"  What  is  your  name,  my  good  woman?  " 
asked  he. 

"Judith  Gardenier." 

"  And  your  father's  name?  " 

"  Ah,  poor  man,  his  name  was  Hip  Van 
Winkle;  it's  twenty  years  since  he  went 
away  from  home  with  his  gun,  and  never 
has  been  heard  of  since — his  dog  came 
home  without  him  ;  but  whether  he  shot 
himself,  or  was  carried  away  by  the  In- 
dians, nobody  can  tell.  I  was  then  but  a 
little  girl." 

Rip  had  but  one  question  more  to  ask  ; 
but  he  put  it  with  a  faltering  voice  : 

"  Where's  your  mother?  " 

Oh,  she  too  had  died  but  a  short  time 
since ;  she  broke  a  blood-vessel  in  a  fit  of 
passion  at  a  New-England  pedlar. 

There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in 
this  intelligence.  The  honest  man  could 
contain  himself  no  longer.  He  caught 
his  daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms. 
"  T  am  your  father ! "  cried  he — "  Young 
Rip  Van  Winkle  once — old  Rip  Van 
Winkle  now! — Does  nobody  know  poor 
Rip  Van  Winkle  ?" 

All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman, 
tottering  out  from  among  the  crowd,  put 
her  hand  to  her  brow,  and  peering  under 
it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed, 
"  Sure  enough  !  it  is  Rip  Van  Winkle — it 
is  himself.  Welcome  home  again,  old 
neighbor — Why,  where  have  you  been 
these  twenty  long  years?" 

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole 
twenty  years  had  been  to  him  but  as  one 
night.  The  neighbors  stared  when  they 
heard  it;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each 
other,  and  put  their  tongues  in  their 
cheeks ;  and  the  self-important  man  in 
the  cocked  hat,  who,  when  the  alarm  was 
over,  had  returned  to  the  field,  screwed 
down  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook 
his  head — upon  which  there  was  a  general 
shaking  of  the  head  throughout  the  as- 
semblage. 

It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the 
opinion  of  old  Peter  Vanderdonk,  who 
was  seen  slowly  advancing  up  the  road. 
He  was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of 
that  name,  who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest 
accounts  of  the  province.  Peter  was  the 
most  ancient  inhabitant  of  the  village, 
and  well  versed  in  all  the  wonderful 
events  and  traditions  of  the  neighbor- 


hood. He  recollected  Rip  at  once,  and 
corroborated  his  story  in  the  most  satis- 
factory manner.  He  assured  the  company 
that  it  was  a  fact,  handed  down  from  his 
ancestor  the  historian,  that  the  Kaatskill 
mountains  had  always  been  haunted  by 
strange  beings.  That  it  was  affirmed  that 
the  great  Hendrick  Hudson,  the  first  dis- 
coverer of  the  river  and  country,  kept  a 
kind  of  vigil  there  every  twenty  years, 
with  his  crew  of  the  Half-moon,  being 
permitted  in  this  way  to  revisit  the  scenes 
of  his  enterprise,  and  keep  a  guardian  eye 
upon  the  river  and  the  great  city  called  by 
his  name.  That  his  father  had  once  seen 
them  in  their  old  Dutch  dresses  playing 
at  nine-pins  in  a  hollow  of  the  mountain  ; 
and  that  he  himself  had  heard,  one  sum- 
mer afternoon,  the  sound  of  their  balls, 
like  distant  peals  of  thunder. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  com- 
pany broke  up,  and  returned  to  the  more 
important  concerns  of  the  election.  Rip's 
daughter  took  him  home  to  live  with  her ; 
she  had  a  snug,  well-furnished  house,  and 
a  stout  cheery  farmer  for  a  husband,  whom 
Rip  recollected  for  one  of  the  urchins 
that  used  to  climb  upon  his  back.  As  to 
Rip's  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  ditto  of 
himself,  seen  leaning  against  the  tree,  he 
was  employed  to  work  on  the  farm  ;  but 
evinced  a  hereditary  disposition  to  attend 
to  anything  else  but  his  business. 

Rip  now  resumed  his  old  walks  and 
habits  ;  he  soon  found  many  of  his  former 
cronies,  though  all  rather  the  worse  for 
the  wear  and  tear  of  time  ;  and  preferred 
making  friends  among  the  rising  genera- 
tion, with  whom  he  soon  grew  into  great 
favor. 

Having  nothing  to  do  at  home,  and 
being  arrived  at  that  happy  age  when  a 
man  can  do  nothing  with  impunity,  he 
took  his  place  once  more  on  the  bench,  at 
the  inn  door,  and  was  reverenced  as  one 
of  the  patriarchs  of  the  village,  and  a 
chronicle  of  the  old  times  "  before  the 
war."  It  was  some  time  before  he  could 
get  into  the  regular  track  of  gossip,  or 
could  be  made  to  comprehend  the  strange 
events  that  had  taken  place  during  his 
torpor.  How  that  there  had  been  a  revo- 
lutionary war  —  that  the  country  had 
thrown  off  the  yoke  of  old  England — and 
that,  instead  of  being  a  subject  of  his 
majesty  George  the  Third,  be  was  novr  a 
free  citizen  of  the  United  States.  Rip,  in 
fact,  was  no  politician ;  the  changes  of 


264 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


states  and  empires  made  but  little  im- 
pression on  him  ;  but  there  was  one  spe- 
cies of  despotism  under  which  he  had  long 
groaned,  and  that  was — petticoat  govern- 
ment. Happily,  that  was  at  an  end ;  he 
had  got  his  neck  out  of  the  yoke  of  matri- 
mony, and  could  go  in  and  out  whenever 
he  pleased,  without  dreading  the  tyranny 
of  Dame  Van  Winkle.  Whenever  her 
name  was  mentioned,  however,  he  shook 
his  head,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
cast  up  his  eyes ;  which  might  pass  either 
for  an  expression  of  resignation  to  his 
fate,  or  joy  at  his  deliverance. 

He  used  to  tell  his  story  to  every 
stranger  that  arrived  at  Mr.  Doolittle's 
hotel.  He  was  observed,  at  first,  to  vary 
on  some  points  every  time  he  told  it, 
which  was  doubtless  owing  to  his  having 
so  recently  awaked.  It  at  last  settled 
down  precisely  to  the  tale  I  have  related, 
and  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the 
neighborhood,  but  knew  it  by  heart. 
Some  always  pretended  to  doubt  the  re- 
ality of  it,  and  insisted  that  Rip  had  been 
out  of  his  head,  and  that  this  was  one 
point  on  which  he  always  remained 
flighty.  The  old  Dutch  inhabitants, 
however,  almost  universally  gave  it  credit. 
Even  to  this  day,  they  never  hear  a 
thunder-storm  of  a  summer  afternoon 
about  the  Kaatskill,  but  they  say  Hend- 
rick  Hudson  and  his  crew  are  at  their 
game  of  nine-pins ;  and  it  is  a  common 
wish  of  all  henpecked  husbands  in  the 
neighborhood,  when  life  hangs  heavy  on 
their  hands,  that  they  might  have  a 
quieting  draught  out  of  Rip  Van  Winkle's 
flagon. 

NOTE. 

The  foregoing  tale,  one  would  suspect, 
had  been  suggre°ted  to  Mr.  Knickerbocker 
by  a  little  German  superstition  about  the 
Emperor  Frederick  der  Rothbart  and  the 
Kypphauser  mountain ;  the  subjoined 
note,  however,  which  he  had  appended  to 
the  tale,  shows  that  it  is  an  absolute  fact, 
narrated  with  his  usual  fidelity. 

"  The  story  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  may 
seem  incredible  to  many,  but  neverthe- 
less I  give  it  my  full  belief,  for  I  know  the 
vicinity  of  our  "old  Dutch  settlements  to 
have  been  very  subject  to  marvellous 
events  and  appearances.  Indeed,  I  have 
heard  many  stranger  stories  than  this,  in 
the  villages  along  the  Hudson ;  all  of 


which  were  too  well  authenticated  to  ad- 
mit of  a  doubt.  I  have  even  talked  with 
Rip  Van  Winkle  myself,  who,  when  last 
I  saw  him,  was  a  very  venerable  old  man, 
and  so  perfectly  rational  and  consistent 
on  every  other  point,  that  I  think  no  con- 
scientious person  could  refuse  to  take  this 
into  the  bargain  ;  nay,  I  have  seen  a  cer- 
tificate on  the  subject  taken  before  a 
country  justice,  and  signed  with  a  cross, 
in  the  justice's  own  handwriting.  The 
story,  therefore,  is  beyond  the  possibility 
of  doubt." 


THE  LEGEND   OF  SLEEPY   HOL- 
LOW. 

(FOUND   AMONG  THE  PAPERS  OF  THB 
LATE  DIEDR1CH  KNICKERBOCKER.) 

A  pleasing  land  of  drowsy  head  it  was, 
Of  dreams  that  wave  before  the  half  shut  eye, 
And  of  gay  castles  in  the  clouds  that  pass, 
For  ever  flushing  round  a  summer  sky. 

— Cagtte  of  Indolence. 

IN  the  bosom  of  one  of  those  spacious 
coves  which  indent  the  eastern  shore  of 
the  Hudson,  at  that  broad  expansion  of 
the  river  denominated  by  the  ancient 
Dutch  navigators  the  Tappaan  Zee,  and 
where  they  always  prudently  shortened 
sail,  and  implored  the  protection  of  St. 
Nicholas  when  they  crossed,  there  lies  a 
small  market  town  or  rural  port,  which 
by  some  is  called  Greensburg,  but  which 
is  more  generally  and  properly  known  by 
the  name  of  Tarry  Town.  This  name 
was  given  it,  we  are  told,  in  former  days, 
by  the  good  housewives  of  the  adjacent 
country,  from  the  inveterate  propensity 
of  their  husbands  to  linger  about  the  vil- 
lage tavern  on  market  days.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  I  do  not  vouch  for  the  fact,  but 
merely  advert  to  it,  for  the  sake  of  being 
precise  and  authentic.  Not  far  from  this 
village,  perhaps  about  three  miles,  there 
is  a  little  valley  or  rather  lap  of  land 
among  high  hills,  which  is  one  of  the 
quietest  places  in  the  whole  world.  A 
small  brook  glides  through  it,  with  just 
murmur  enough  to  lull  one  to  repose ;  and 
the  occasional  whistle  of  a  quail,  or  tap- 
ping of  a  wood-pecker,  is  almost  the  only 
sound  that  ever  breaks  in  upon  the  uni- 
form tranquillity. 

I  recollect  that,  when  a  stripling,  my 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


265 


first  exploit  in  squirrel-shooting  was  in  a 
grove  of  tall  walnut-trees  that  shades  one 
side  of  the  valley.  I  had  wandered  into 
it  at  noon-time,  when  all  nature  is  pecu- 
liarly quiet,  and  was  startled  by  the  roar 
of  my  own  gun,  as  it  broke  the  sabbath 
stillness  around,  and  was  prolonged  and 
reverberated  by  the  angry  echoes.  If 
ever  I  should  wish  for  a  retreat  whither  I 
might  steal  from  the  world  and  its  dis- 
tractions, and  dream  quietly  away  the 
remnant  of  a  troubled  life,  I  know  of 
none  more  promising  than  this  little  val- 
ley. 

From  the  listless  repose  of  the  place, 
and  the  peculiar  character  of  its  inhabi- 
tants, who  are  descendant  from  the  orig- 
inal Dutch  settlers,  this  sequestered  glen 
has  long  been  known  by  the  name  of 
SLEEPY  HOLLOW,  and  its  rustic  lads  are 
called  the  Sleepy  Hollow  Boys  through- 
out all  the  neighboring  country.  A 
drowsy,  dreamy  influence  seems  to  hang 
over  the  land,  and  to  pervade  the  very 
atmosphere.  Some  say  that  the  place 
was  bewitched  by  a  high  German  doctor, 
during  the  early  days  of  the  settlement ; 
others,  that  an  old  Indian  chief,  the 
prophet  or  wizard  of  his  tribe,  held  his 
powwows  there  before  the  country  was 
discovered  by  Master  Hendrick  Hudson. 
Certain  it  is,  the  place  still  continues 
under  the  sway  of  some  witching 
power,  that  holds  a  spell  over  the  minds 
of  the  good  people,  causing  them  to  walk 
in  a  continual  reverie.  They  are  given 
to  all  kinds  of  marvellous  beliefs;  are 
subject  to  trances  and  visions,  and  fre- 
quently see  strange  sights,  and  hear  music 
and  voices  in  the  air.  The  whole  neigh- 
borhood abounds  with  local  tales,  haunt- 
ed spots,  and  twilight  superstitions ;  stars 
shoot  and  meteors  glare  oftener  across  the 
valley  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  night-mare,  with  her  whole 
nine  fold,  seems  to  make  it  the  favorite 
8«'ene  of  her  gambols. 

The  dominant  spirit,  however,  that 
haunts  this  enchanted  region,  and  seems 
to  be  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  pow- 
ers of  the  air,  is  the  apparition  of  a  figure 
on  horseback  without  a  head.  It  is  said 
by  some  to  be  the  ghost  of  a  Hessian 
trooper,  whose  head  had  been  carried 
away  by  a  cannon-ball,  in  some  nameless 
battle  during  the  revolutionary  war,  and 
who  is  ever  and  anon  seen  by  the  country 
folk,  hurrying  along  in  the  gloom  of 


night,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
His  haunts  are  not  confined  to  the  valley, 
but  extend  at  times  to  the  adjacent  roads, 
and  especially  to  the  ruins  of  a  church 
that  is  at  no  great  distance.  Indeed,  cer- 
tain of  the  most  authentic  historians  of 
those  parts,  who  have  been  careful  in  col- 
lecting and  collating  the  floating  facts 
concerning  this  spectre,  allege,  that  the 
body  of  the  trooper  having  been  buried 
in  the  churchyard,  the  ghost  rides  forth 
to  the  scene  of  battle  in  nightly  quest  of 
his  head,  and  that  the  rushing  speed  with 
which  he  sometimes  passes  along  the  hoi' 
low,  like  a  midnight  blast,  is  owing  to  his 
being  belated,  and  in  a  hurry  to  get  back 
to  the  churchyard  before  daybreak. 

Such  is  the  general  purport  of  this  leg- 
endary superstition,  which  has  furnished 
materials  for  many  a  wild  story  in  that 
region  of  shadows;  and  the  spectre  is 
known  at  all  the  country  firesides,  by  the 
name  of  the  Headless  Horseman  of  Sleepy 
Hollow. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  the  visionary  pro- 
pensity I  have  mentioned  is  not  confined 
to  the  native  inhabitants  of  the  valley, 
but  is  unconsciously  imbibed  by  every 
one  who  resides  there  for  a  time.  How- 
ever wide  awake  they  may  have  been  be- 
fore they  entered  that  sleepy  region,  they 
are  sure,  in  a  little  time  to  inhale  the 
witching  influence  of  the  air,  and  begin 
to  grow  imaginative — to  dream  dreams, 
and  see  apparitions. 

I  mention  this  peaceful  spot  with  all  pos- 
sible laud  ;  for  it  is  in  such  little  retired 
Dutch  valleys,  found  here  and  there  em- 
bosomed in  the  great  State  of  New  York, 
that  population,  manners  and  customs, 
remain  fixed,  while  the  great  torrent  of 
migration  and  improvement,  which  is 
making  such  incessant  changes  in  other 
parts  of  this  restless  country,  sweeps  by 
them  unobserved.  They  are  like  those 
little  nooks  of  still  water,  which  border  a 
stream,  where  we  may  see  the  straw  and 
bubble  riding  quietly  at  anchor,  or  slowly 
revolving  in  their  mimic  harbor,  un- 
disturbed by  the  rush  of  the  passing  cur- 
rent. Though  many  years  have  elapsed 
since  I  trod  the  drowsy  shades  of  Sleepy 
Hollow,  yet  I  question  whether  I  should 
not  still  find  the  same  trees  and  the  same 
families  vegetating  in  its  sheltered  bosom. 

In  this  by-place  of  nature  there  abode, 
in  a  remote  period  of  American  history, 
that  is  to  say,  some  thirty  years  since,  a 


266 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


worthy  wight  of  the  name  of  Ichabod 
Crane,  who  sojourned,  or,  as  he  expressed 
it,  "  tarried,"  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  for  the 
purpose  of  instructing  the  children  of 
the  vicinity.  He  was  a  native  of  Con- 
necticut, a  State  which  supplies  the  Union 
with  pioneers  for  the  mind  as  well  as  for 
the  forest,  and  sends  forth  yearly  its 
legions  of  frontier  woodmen  and  country 
schoolmasters.  The  cognomen  of  Crane 
was  not  inapplicable  to  his  person.  He 
was  tall,  but  exceedingly  lank,  with  nar- 
row shoulders,  long  arms  and  legs,  hands 
that  dangled  a  mile  out  of  his  sleeves, 
feet  that  might  have  served  for  shovels, 
and  his  whole  frame  most  loosely  hung 
together.  His  head  was  small,  and  flat 
at  top,  with  huge  ears,  large  green  glassy 
eyes,  and  a  long  snipe  nose,  so  that  it 
looked  like  a  weathercock  perched  upon 
his  spindle  neck,  to  tell  which  way  the 
wind  blew.  To  see  him  striding  along 
the  profile  of  a  hill  on  a  windy  day,  with 
his  clothes  bagging  and  fluttering  about 
him,  one  might  have  mistaken  him  for 
the  genius  of  famine  descending  upon  the 
earth,  or  some  scarecrow  eloped  from  a 
cornfield. 

His  school-house  was  a  low  building  of 
one  large  room,  rudely  constructed  of 
logs ;  the  windows  partly  glazed,  and 
partly  patched  with  leaves  of  old  copy- 
books. It  was  most  ingeniously  secured 
at  vacant  hours,  by  a  withe  twisted  in 
the  handle  of  the  door,  and  stakes  set 
against  the  window  shutters ;  so  that 
though  a  thief  might  get  in  with  perfect 
ease,  he  would  find  some  embarrassment 
in  getting  out; — an  idea  most  probably 
borrowed  by  the  architect,  Yost  Van 
Houten,  from  the  mystery  of  an  eelpot. 
The  school-house  stood  in  a  rather  lonely 
but  pleasant  situation,  just  at  the  foot  of 
a  woody  hill,  with  a  brook  running  close 
by,  and  a  formidable  birch-tree  growing 
at  one  end  of  it.  From  hence  the  low 
murmur  of  his  pupil's  voices,  conning 
over  their  lessons,  might  be  heard  of  a 
drowsy  summer's  day,  like  the  hum  of  a 
beehive;  interrupted  now  and  then  by 
the  authoritative  voice  of  the  master,  in 
the  tone  of  menace  or  command ;  or, 
peradventure,  by  the  appalling  sound  of 
the  birch,  as  he  urged  some  tardy  loiterer 
along  the  flowery  path  of  knowledge. 
Truth  to  say,  he  was  a  conscientious  man, 
that  ever  bore  in  mind  the  golden  maxim, 
'  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child." — 


Ichabod  Crane's  scholars  certainly  wer« 
not  spoiled. 

I  would  not  have  it  imagined,  however, 
that  he  was  one  of  those  cruel  potentates 
of  the  school,  who  joy  in  the  smart  of 
their  subjects ;  on  the  contrary,  he  ad- 
ministered justice  with  discrimination 
rather  than  severity ;  taking  the  burthen 
off  the  backs  of  the  weak,  and  laying  it 
on  those  of  the  strong.  Your  mere  puny 
stripling,  that  winced  at  the  least  flourish 
of  the  rod,  was  passed  by  with  indul- 
gence; but  the  claims  of  justice  were 
satisfied  by  inflicting  a  double  portion  on 
some  little,  tough,  wrong-headed,  broad- 
skirted  Dutch  urchin,  who  sulked  and 
swelled  and  grew  dogged  and  sullen  be- 
neath the  birch.  All  this  he  called 
"  doing  his  duty  by  their  parents ; "  and 
he  never  inflicted  a  chastisement  without 
following  it  by  the  assurance,  so  consola- 
tory to  the  smarting  urchin,  that  "  he 
would  remember  it  and  thank  him  for  it 
the  longest  day  he  had  to  live." 

When  school  hours  were  over,  he  was 
even  the  companion  and  playmate  of  the 
larger  boys;  and  on  holiday  afternoons 
would  convoy  some  of  the  smaller  ones 
home,  who  happened  to  have  pretty  sis- 
ters, or  good  housewives  for  mothers, 
noted  for  the  comforts  of  the  cupboard. 
Indeed,  it  behoved  him  to  keep  on  good 
terms  with  his  pupils.  The  revenue 
arising  from  his  school  was  small,  and 
would  have  been  scarcely  sufficient  to 
furnish  him  with  daily  bread,  for  he  was 
a  huge  feeder,  and  though  lank,  had  the 
dilating  powers  of  an  anaconda ;  but  to 
help  out  his  maintenance,  he  was,  accord- 
ing to  country  custom  in  those  parts, 
boarded  and  lodged  at  the  houses  of  the 
farmers,  whose  children  he  instructed. 
With  these  he  lived  successively  a  week 
at  a  time,  thus  going  the  rounds  of  the 
neighborhood,  with  all  his  worldly  ef- 
fects tied  up  in  a  cotton  handkerchief. 

That  all  this  might  not  be  too  onerous 
on  the  purses  of  his  rustic  patrons,  who 
are  apt  to  consider  the  cost  of  schooling 
a  grievous  burthen,  and  schoolmasters  as 
mere  drones,  he  had  various  ways  of  ren- 
dering himself  both  useful  and  agreeable. 
He  assisted  the  farmers  occasionally  in 
the  lighter  labors  of  their  farms;  helped 
to  make  hay ;  mended  the  fences ;  took 
the  horses  to  water  ;  drove  the  cows  from 
pasture  ;  and  cut  wood  for  the  winter  fire 
He  laid  aside,  too,  all  the  dominant  dig- 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


267 


nity  and  absolute  sway,  with  which  he 
lorded  it  in  his  little  empire,  the  school, 
and  became  wonderfully  gentle  and  in- 
gratiating. He  found  favor  in  the  eyes 
of  the  mothers,  by  petting  the  children, 

Earticularly  the  youngest ;  and  like  the 
on  bold,  which  whilome  so  magnani- 
mously the  lamb  did  hold,  he  would  sit 
with  a  child  on  one  knee,  and  rock  a  cra- 
dle with  his  foot  for  whole  hours  together. 
In  addition  to  his  other  vocations,  he 
was  the  singing-master  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  picked  up  many  bright  shillings 
by  instructing  the  young  folks  in  psal- 
mody. It  was  a  matter  of  no  little  vanity 
to  him  on  Sundays,  to  take  his  station  in 
front  of  the  church  gallery,  with  a  band 
of  chosen  singers ;  where,  in  his  own 
mind,  he  completely  carried  away  the 
palm  from  the  parson.  Certain  it  is,  his 
voice  resounded  far  above  all  the  rest  of 
the  congregation,  and  there  are  peculiar 
quavers  still  to  be  heard  in  that  church, 
and  which  may  even  be  heard  half  a  mile 
off,  quite  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  mill- 
pond,  on  a  still  Sunday  morning,  which 
are  said  to  be  legitimately  descended  from 
the  nose  of  Ichabod  Crane.  Thus,  by 
divers  little  make-shifts,  in  that  ingenious 
way  which  is  commonly  denominated 
"  by  hook  and  by  crook,"  the  worthy  ped- 
agogue got  on  tolerably  enough,  and  was 
thought,  by  all  who  understood  nothing 
of  the  labor  of  head-work,  to  have  a 
wonderful  easy  life  of  it. 

The  schoolmaster  is  generally  a  man  of 
some  importance  in  the  female  circle  of  a 
rural  neighborhood ;  being  considered  a 
kind  of  idle  gentleman-like  personage,  of 
vastly  superior  taste  and  accomplish- 
ments to  the  rough  country  swains,  and, 
indeed,  inferior  in  learning  only  to  the 
parson.  His  appearance,  therefore,  is  apt 
to  occasion  some  little  stir  at  the  tea-table 
of  a  farm-house,  and  the  addition  of  a  su- 
pernumerary dish  of  cakes  or  sweetmeats, 
or,  peradventure,  the  parade  of  a  silver 
tea-pot.  Our  man  of  letters,  therefore, 
was  peculiarly  happy  in  the  smiles  of  all 
the  country  damsels.  How  he  would  fig- 
ure among  them  in  the  churchyard,  be- 
tween services  on  Sundays  I  gathering 
grapes  for  them  from  the  wild  vines  that 
overrun  the  surrounding  trees ;  reciting 
for  their  amusement  all  the  epitaphs  on 
the  tombstones;  or  sauntering,  with  a 
whole  bevy  of  them,  along  the  banks  of 
the  adjacent  mill  -pond ;  while  the  more 


bashful  country  bumpkins  hung  sheepish- 
ly back,  envying  his  superior  elegance  and 
address. 

From  his  half  itinerant  life,  also,  he  was 
a  kind  of  travelling  gazette,  -carrying  the 
whole  budget  of  local  gossip  from  house  to 
house  ;  so  that  his  appearance  was  always 
greeted  with  satisfaction.  He  was,  more- 
over, esteemed  by  the  women  as  a  man  of 
great  erudition,  for  he  had  read  several 
books  quite  through,  and  was  a  perfect 
master  of  Cotton  Mather's  History  of  New 
England  Witchcraft,  in  which,  by  the  way, 
he  most  firmly  and  potently  believed. 

He  was,  in  fact,  an  odd  mixture  of 
small  shrewdness  and  simple  credulity. 
His  appetite  for  the  marvellous,  and  his 
powers  of  digesting  it,  were  equally  extra- 
ordinary ;  and  both  had  been  increased 
by  his  residence  in  this  spell-bound  region. 
No  tale  was  too  gross  or  monstrous  for  his 
capacious  swallow.  It  was  often  his  de- 
light, after  his  school  was  dismissed  in  the 
afternoon,  to  stretch  himself  on  the  rich 
bed  of  clover,  bordering  the  little  brook 
that  whimpered  by  his  school-house,  and 
there  con  over  old  Mather's  direful  tales, 
until  the  gathering  dusk  of  evening  made 
the  printed  page  a  mere  mist  before  his 
eyes.  Then,  as  he  wended  his  way,  by 
swamp  and  stream  and  awful  woodland, 
to  the  farm-house  where  he  happened  to 
be  quartered,  every  sound  of  nature,  at 
that  witching  hour,  fluttered  his  excited 
imagination ;  the  moan  of  the  whip-poor- 
will  l  from  the  hill  side ;  the  boding  cry 
of  the  tree-toad,  that  harbinger  of  storm  ; 
the  dreary  hooting  of  the  screech-owl ;  or 
the  sudden  rustling  in  the  thicket,  of  birds 
frightened  from  their  roost.  The  fire-flies, 
too,  which  sparkled  most  vividly  in  the 
darkest  places,  now  and  then  startled  him, 
as  one  of  uncommon  brightness  would 
stream  across  his  path ;  and  if,  by  chance, 
a  huge  blockhead  of  a  beetle  came  wing- 
ing his  blundering  flight  against  him,  the 
poor  varlet  was  ready  to  give  up  the  ghost, 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  struck  with  a 
witch's  token.  His  only  resource  on  such 
occasions,  either  to  drown  thought,  or  drive 
away  evil  spirits,  was  to  sing  psalm  tunes ; 
— and  the  good  people  of  Sleepy  Hollow, 
as  they  sat  by  their  doors  of  an  evening, 
were  often  filled  with  awe,  at  hearing  his 


i  The  whip-poor-will  is  a  bird  which  is  only  heard  at 
night.  It  receives  its  name  from  its  note,  which  !• 
thought  to  resemble  those  words. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


nasal  melody, "  in  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out,"  floating  from  the  distant  hill, 
or  along  the  dusky  road. 

Another  of  his  sources  of  fearful  pleas- 
ure was,  to  pass  long  winter  evenings  with 
the  old  Dutch  wives,  as  they  sat  spinning 
by  the  fire,  with  a  row  of  apples  roasting 
and  sputtering  along  the  hearth,  and  lis- 
ten to  their  marvellous  tales  of  ghosts,  and 
goblins,  and  haunted  fields  and  haunted 
brooks,  and  haunted  bridges  and  haunted 
houses,  and  particularly,  of  the  headless 
horseman,  or  galloping  Hessian  of  the 
Hollow,  as  they  sometimes  called  him. 
He  would  delight  them  equally  by  his  an- 
ecdotes of  witchcraft,  and  of  the  direful 
omens  and  portentous  sights  and  sounds 
in  the  air,  which  prevailed  in  the  earlier 
times  of  Connecticut ;  and  would  frighten 
them  wofully  with  speculations  upon 
comets  and  shooting  stars,  and  with  the 
alarming  fact  that  the  world  did  abso- 
lutely turn  round,  and  that  they  were 
half  the  time  topsy-turvy  ! 

But  if  there  was  a  pleasure  in  all  this, 
while  snugly  cuddling  in  the  chimney 
corner  of  a  chamber  that  was  all  of  a 
ruddy  glow  from  the  crackling  wood  fire, 
and  where,  of  course,  no  spectre  dared  to 
show  its  face,  it  was  dearly  purchased  by 
the  terrors  of  his  subsequent  walk  home- 
wards. What  fearful  shapes  and  shadows 
beset  his  path,  amidst  the  dim  and  ghast- 
ly glare  of  a  snowy  night ! — With  what 
wistful  look  did  he.  eye  every  trembling 
ray  of  light  streaming  across  the  waste 
fields  from  some  distant  window ! — How 
often  was  he  appalled  by  some  shrub  cov- 
ered with  snow,  which  like  a  sheeted  spec- 
tre beset  his  very  path  ! — How  often  did 
he  shrink  with  curdling  awe  at  the  sound 
of  his  own  steps  on  the  frosty  crust  be- 
neath his  feet ;  and  dread  to  look  over  his 
shoulder,  lest  he  should  behold  some  un- 
couth being  tramping  close  behind  him  ! 
— and  how  often  was  he  thrown  into  com- 
plete dismay  by  some  rushing  blast,  howl- 
ing among  the  trees,  in  the  idea  that  it 
was  the  galloping  Hessian  on  one  of  his 
nightly  scourings ! 

All  these,  however,  were  mere  terrors  of 
the  night,  phantoms  of  the  mind,  that 
walk  in  darkness :  and  though  he  had 
seen  many  spectres  in  his  time,  and  been 
beset  by  Satan  in  divers  shapes,  in  his 
lonely  perambulations,  yet  day-light  put  an 
end  to  all  these  evils  ;  and  he  would  have 
passed  a  pleasant  life  of  it,  in  despite  of 


the  Devil  and  all  his  works,  if  his  path 
had  not  been  crossed  by  a  being  that 
causes  more  perplexity  to  mortal  man, 
than  ghosts,  goblins,  and  the  whole  race 
of  witches  put  together ;  and  that  was — 
a  woman. 

Among  the  musical  disciples  who  as- 
sembled, one  evening  in  each  week,  to  re- 
ceive his  instructions  in  psalmody,  was 
Katrina  Van  Tassel,  the  daughter  and 
only  child  of  a  substantial  Dutch  farmer. 
She  was  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eighteen ; 
plump  as  a  partridge  ;  ripe  and  melting 
and  rosy-cheeked  as  one  of  her  father's 
peaches,  and  universally  famed,  not 
merely  for  her  beauty,  but  her  vast  ex- 
pectations. She  was  withal  a  little  of  a 
coquette,  as  might  be  perceived  even  in 
her  dress,  which  was  a  mixture  of  ancient 
and  modern  fashions,  as  most  suited  to 
set  off  her  charms.  She  wore  the  orna- 
ments of  pure  yellow  gold,  which  her 
great-great-grandmother  had  brought 
over  from  Saardam ;  the  tempting  stom- 
acher of  the  olden  time,  and  withal  a 
provokingly  short  petticoat,  to  display  the 
prettiest  foot  and  ankle  in  the  country 
round. 

Ichabod  Crane  had  a  soft  and  foolish 
heart  toward  the  sex ;  and  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  so  tempting  a  morsel 
soon  found  favor  in  his  eyes,  more  es- 
pecially after  he  had  visited  her  in  her 
paternal  mansion.  Old  Baltus  Van  Tas- 
sel was  a  perfect  picture  of  a  thriving, 
contented,  liberal-hearted  farmer.  He  sel- 
dom, it  is  true,  sent  either  his  eyes  or  his 
thoughts  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his 
own  farm ;  but  within  these,  everything 
was  snug,  happy,  and  well  conditioned. 
He  was  satisfied  with  his  wealth,  but  not 
proud  of  it ;  and  piqued  himself  upon  the 
hearty  abundance,  rather  than  the  style 
in  which  he  lived.  His  stronghold  was 
situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  in 
one  of  those  green  sheltered,  fertile 
nooks,  in  which  the  Dutch  farmers  are  so 
fond  of  nestling.  A  great  elm  tree  spread 
its  broad  branches  over  it ;  at  the  foot  of 
which  bubbled  up  a  spring  of  the  softest 
and  sweetest  water,  in  a  little  well,  formed 
of  a  barrel ;  and  then  stole  sparkling  away 
through  the  grass,  to  a  neighboring  brook, 
that  babbled  along  among  alders  and 
dwarf  willows.  Hard  by  the  farm-house 
was  a  vast  barn,  that  might  have  served 
for  a  church  ;  every  window  and  crevice 
of  which  seemed  bursting  forth  with  the 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


269 


treasures  of  the  farm  ;  the  flail  was  busily 
resounding  within  it  from  morning  to 
night ;  swallows  and  martins  skimmed 
twittering  about  the  eaves  ;  and  rows  of 
pigeons,  some  with  one  eye  turned  up,  as 
if  watching  the  weather,  some  with  their 
heads  under  their  wings  or  buried  in 
their  bosoms,  and  others,  swelling,  and 
cooing,  and  bowing  about  their  dames, 
were  enjoying  the  sunshine  on  the  roof. 
Sleek,  unwieldy  porkers  were  grunting  in 
the  repose  and  abundance  of  their  pens, 
from  whence  sallied  forth,  now  and  then, 
troops  of  sucking  pigs  as  if  to  snuff  the 
air.  A  stately  squadron  of  snowy  geese 
were  riding  in  an  adjoining  pond,  convoy- 
ing whole  fleets  of  ducks ;  regiments  of 
turkeys  were  gobbling  through  the  farm- 
yard, and  guinea-fowls  fretting  about  it 
like  ill-tempered  housewives,  with  their 
peevish,  discontented  cry.  Before  the 
barn  door  strutted  the  gallant  cock,  that 
pattern  of  a  husband,  a  warrior,  and  a 
fine  gentleman;  clapping  his  burnished 
wings,  and  crowing  in  the  pride  and  glad- 
ness of  his  heart— sometimes  tearing  up 
the  earth  with  his  feet,  and  then  gener- 
ously calling  his  ever  hungry  family  of 
wives  and  children  to  enjoy  the  rich  mor- 
sel which  he  had  discovered. 

The  pedagogue's  mouth  watered,  as  he 
looked  upon  this  sumptuous  promise  of 
luxurious  winter  fare.  In  his  devouring 
mind's  eye,  he  pictured  to  himself  every 
roasting  pig  running  about,  with  a  pud- 
ding in  its  belly,  and  an  apple  in  its  mouth; 
the  pigeons  were  snugly  put  to  bed  in  a 
comfortable  pie,  and  tucked  in  with  a 
coverlet  of  crust ;  the  geese  were  swim- 
ming in  their  own  gravy  ;  and  the  ducks 
pairing  cosily  in  dishes,  like  snug  married 
couples,  with  a  decent  competency  of 
onion  sauce.  In  the  porkers  he  saw 
carved  out  the  future  sleek  side  of  bacon, 
and  juicy  relishing  ham ;  not  a  turkey, 
but  he  beheld  daintily  trussed  up,  with 
its  gizzard  under  its  wing,  and,  peradven- 
ture,  a  necklace  of  savoury  sausages  ;  and 
even  bright  chanticleer  himself  lay 
sprawling  on  his  back,  in  a  side  dish,  with 
uplifted  claws,  as  if  craving  that  quarter 
which  his  chivalrous  spirit  disdained  to 
ask  while  living. 

As  the  enraptured  Ichabod  fancied  all 
this,  and  as  he  rolled  his  great  green  eyes 
over  the  fat  meadow  lands,  the  rich  fields 
of  wheat,  of  rye,  of  buckwheat,  and  In- 
dian corn,  and  the  orchards  burthened 


with  ruddy  fruit,  which  surrounded  the 
warm  tenement  of  Van  Tassel,  his  heart 
yearned  after  the  damsel  who  was  to  in- 
herit these  domains,  and  his  imagination 
expanded  with  the  idea,  how  they  might 
be  readily  turned  into  cash,  and  the 
money  invested  in  immense  tracts  of  wild 
land,  and  shingle  palaces  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Nay,  his  busy  fancy  already  real- 
ized his  hopes,  and  presented  to  him  the 
blooming  Katrina,  with  a  whole  family 
of  children,  mounted  on  the  top  of  a  wag- 
on loaded  with  household  trumpery,  with 
pots  and  kettles  dangling  beneath  ;  and 
he  beheld  himself  bestriding  a  pacing 
mare,  with  a  colt  at  her  heels,  setting  out 
for  Kentucky,  Tennessee — or  the  Lord 
knows  where ! 

When  he  entered  the  house,  the  con- 
quest of  his  heart  was  complete.  It  was 
one  of  those  spacious  farm-houses,  with 
high-ridged,  but  lowly-sloping  roofs, 
built  in  the  style  handed  down  from  the 
first  Dutch  settlers.  The  low  projecting 
eaves  forming  a  piazza  along  the  front, 
capable  of  being  closed  up  in  bad  weather. 
Under  this  were  hung  flails,  harness,  va- 
rious utensils  of  husbandry,  and  nets  for 
fishing  in  the  neighboring  river.  Benches 
were  built  along  the  sides  for  summer  use ; 
and  a  great  spinning-wheel  at  one  end, 
and  a  churn  at  the  other,  showed  the  va- 
rious uses  to  which  this  important  porch 
might  be  devoted.  From  this  piazza  the 
wonderful  Ichabod  entered  the  hall,  which 
formed  the  centre  of  the  mansion,  and  the 
place  of  usual  residence.  Here,  rows  of 
resplendent  pewter,  ranged  on  a  long  dres- 
ser, dazzled  his  eyes.  In  one  corner  stood 
a  huge  bag  of  wool,  ready  to  be  spun  ;  in 
another,  a  quantity  of  linsey-woolsey  just 
from  the  loom ;  ears  of  Indian  corn,  and 
strings  of  dried  apples  and  peaches,  hung 
in  gay  festoons  along  the  walls,  mingled 
with  the  gaud  of  red  peppers  ;  and  a  door 
left  ajar,  gave  him  a  peep  into  the  best 
parlor,  where  the  claw-footed  chairs,  and 
dark  mahogany  tables,  shone  like  mir- 
rors ;  andirons,  with  their  accompanying 
shovel  and  tongs,  glistened  from  their  co- 
vert of  asparagus  tops ;  mock-oranges  and 
conch  shells  decorated  the  mantelpiece  ; 
strings  of  various  colored  birds'  eggs 
were  suspended  above  it ;  a  great  ostrich 
egg  was  hung  from  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  a  corner  cupboard,  knowingly  left 
open,  displayed  immense  treasures  of  old 
silver,  and  well-mended  china. 


270 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


From  the  moment  Ichabod  laid  his 
eyes  upon  these  regions  of  delight,  the 
peace  of  his  mind  was  at  an  end,  and  his 
only  study  was  how  to  gain  the  affections 
of  the  peerless  daughter  of  Van  Tassel. 
In  this  enterprise,  however,  he  had  more 
real  difficulties  than  generally  fell  to  the 
lot  of  a  knight-errant  of  yore,  who  seldom 
had  any  thing  but  giants,  enchanters, 
fiery  dragons,  and  such  like  easily  con- 
quered adversaries,  to  contend  with ;  and 
had  to  make  his  way  merely  through 
gates  of  iron  and  brass,  and  walls  of  ada- 
mant to  the  castle-keep,  where  the  lady 
of  his  heart  was  confined;  all  which  he 
achieved  as  easily  as  a  man  would  carve 
his  way  to  the  centre  of  a  Christmas  pie, 
and  then  the  lady  gave  him  her  hand  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Ichabod,  on  the  con- 
trary, had  to  win  his  way  to  the  heart  of 
a  country  coquette,  beset  with  a  labyrinth 
of  whims  and  caprices,  which  were  for 
ever  presenting  new  difficulties  and  im- 
pediments, and  he  had  to  encounter  a 
host  of  fearful  adversaries  of  real  flesh 
and  blood,  the  numerous  rustic  admirers, 
who  beset  every  portal  to  her  heart ; 
keeping  a  watchful  and  angry  eye  upon 
each  other,  but  ready  to  fly  out  in  the 
common  cause  against  any  new  com- 
petitor. 

Among  these,  the  most  formidable  was 
a  burly,  roaring,  roystering  blade,  of  the 
name  of  Abraham,  or  according  to  the 
Dutch  abbreviation,  Brom  Van  Brunt, 
the  hero  of  the  country  round,  which 
rang  with  his  feats  of  strength  and  hardi- 
hood. He  was  broad-shouldered  and 
double-jointed,  with  short  curly  black 
hair,  and  a  bluff,  but  not  unpleasant 
countenance,  having  a  mingled  air  of  fun 
and  arrogance.  From  his  Herculean 
frame  and  great  powers  of  limb,  he  had 
received  the  nickname  of  BROM  BONES, 
by  which  he  was  universally  known.  He 
was  famed  for  great  knowledge  and  skill 
in  horsemanship,  being  as  dexterous  on 
horseback  as  a  Tartar.  He  was  foremost 
at  all  races  and  cockfights,  and  with  the 
ascendancy  which  bodily  strength  always 
acquires  in  rustic  life,  was  the  umpire  in 
all  disputes,  setting  his  hat  on  one  side, 
and  giving  his  decisions  with  an  air  and 
tone  that  admitted  of  no  gainsay  or  ap- 
peal. He  was  always  ready  for  either  a 
fight  or  a  frolic ;  had  more  mischief  than 
ill-will  in  his  composition  ;  and  with  all 
his  overbearing  roughness,  there  was  a 


strong  dash  of  waggish  good-humor  at 
bottom.  He  had  three  or  four  boon  com- 
panions of  his  own  stamp,  who  regarded 
him  as  their  model,  and  at  the  head  of 
whom  he  scoured  the  country,  attending 
every  scene  of  feud  or  merriment  for 
miles  round.  In  cold  weather  he  was 
distinguished  by  a  fur  cap,  surmounted 
with  a  flaunting  fox's  tail ;  and  when  the 
folks  at  a  country  gathering  descried  this 
well-known  crest  at  a  distance,  whisking 
about  among  a  squad  of  hard  riders,  they 
always  stood  by  for  a  squall.  Sometimes 
his  crew  would  be  heard  dashing  along 
past  the  farm-houses  at  midnight,  with 
whoop  and  halloo,  like  a  troop  of  Don 
Cossacks,  and  the  old  dames,  startled 
out  of  their  sleep,  would  listen  for  a 
moment  till  the  hurry-scurry  had  clat- 
tered by,  and  then  exclaim,  "Ay,  there 
goes  Brom  Bones  and  his  gang  I "  The 
neighbors  looked  upon  him  with  a  mix- 
ture of  awe,  admiration,  and  good-will ; 
and  when  any  madcap  prank,  or  rustic 
brawl  occurred  in  the  vicinity,  always 
shook  their  heads,  and  warranted  Brom 
Bones  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

This  rantipole  hero  had  for  some  time 
singled  out  the  blooming  Katrina  for  the 
object  of  his  uncouth  gallantries,  and 
though  his  amorous  toyings  were  some- 
thing like  the  gentle  caresses  and  endear- 
ments of  a  bear,  yet  it  was  whispered  that 
she  did  not  altogether  discourage  his 
hopes.  Certain  it  is,  hie  advances  were 
signals  for  rival  candidates  to  retire,  who 
felt  no  inclination  to  cross  a  lion  in  his 
amours  ;  insomuch,  that  when  his  horse 
was  seen  tied  to  Van  Tassel's  paling,  on  a 
Sunday  night,  a  sure  sign  that  his  master 
was  courting,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  "  spark- 
ing," within,  all  other  suitors  passed  by 
in  despair,  and  carried  the  war  into  other 
quarters. 

Such  was  the  formidable  rival  with 
whom  Ichabod  Crane  had  to  contend,  and 
considering  all  things,  a  stouter  man  than 
he  would  have  shrunk  from  the  com- 
petition, and  a  wiser  man  would  have  de- 
spaired. He  had,  however,  a  happy  mix- 
ture of  pliability  and  perseverance  in  his 
nature ;  he  was  in  form  and  spirit  like  a 
supple-jack — yielding,  but  tough ;  though 
he  bent,  he  never  broke ;  and  though  he 
bowed  beneath  the  slightest  pressure,  yet, 
the  moment  it  was  away — jerk! — he  was 
as  erect,  and  carried  his  head  as  high  as 
ever. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


271 


To  have  taken  the  field  openly  against 
his  rival,  would  have  been  inad'ness;  for 
he  was  not  a  man  to  be  thwarted  in  his 
amours,  any  more  than  that  stormy  lover, 
Achilles.  Ichabod,  therefore,  made  his 
advances  in  a  quiet  and  gently-insinu- 
ating manner.  Under  cover  of  his 
character  of  singing-master,  he  made 
frequent  visits  at  the  farm-house ;  not  that 
he  had  any  thing  to  apprehend  from  the 
meddlesome  interference  of  parents, 
which  is  so  often  a  stumbling-block  in 
the  path  of  lovers.  Bait  Van  Tassel  was 
an  easy  indulgent  soul ;  he  loved  his 
daughter  better  even  than  his  pipe,  and 
like  a  reasonable  man,  and  an  excellent 
father,  let  her  have  her  way  in  every 
thing.  His  notable  little  wife,  too,  had 
enough  to  do  to  attend  to  her  housekeep- 
ing and  manage  the  poultry ;  for,  as  she 
sagely  observed,  ducks  and  geese  are 
foolish  things,  and  must  be  looked  after, 
but  girls  can  take  care  of  themselves. 
Thus,  while  the  busy  dame  bustled  about 
the  house,  or  plied  her  spinning-wheel  at 
one  end  of  the  piazza,  honest  Bait  would 
sit  smoking  his  evening  pipe  at  the  other, 
watching  the  achievements  of  a  little 
wooden  warrior,  who,  armed  with  a 
sword  in  each  hand,  was  most  valiantly 
fighting  the  wind  on  the  pinnacle  of  the 
barn.  In  the  mean  time,  Ichabod  would 
carry  on  his  suit  with  the  daughter  by  the 
side  of  the  spring  under  the  great  elm,  or 
sauntering  along  in  the  twilight,  that  hour 
so  favorable  to  the  lover's  eloquence. 

I  profess  not  to  know  how  women's 
hearts  are  wooed  and  won.  To  me  they 
have  always  been  matters  of  riddle  and 
admiration.  Some  seem  to  have  but  one 
vulnerable  point,  or  door  of  access ;  while 
others  have  a  thousand  avenues,  and  may 
be  captured  in  a  thousand  different  ways. 
It  is  a  great  triumph  of  skill  to  gain  the 
former,  but  a  still  greater  proof  of  gener- 
alship to  maintain  possession  of  the  lat- 
ter, for  a  man  must  battle  for  his  fortress 
at  every  door  and  window.  He  that  wins 
a  thousand  common  hearts,  is  therefore 
entitled  to  some  renown ;  but  he  who 
keeps  undisputed  sway  over  the  heart  of 
a  coquette,  is  indeed  a  hero.  Certain  it 
is,  this  was  not  the  case  with  the  redoubt- 
able Brom  Bones ;  and  from  the  moment 
Ichabod  Crane  made  his  advances,  the 
interests  of  the  former  evidently  de- 
clined :  his  horse  was  no  longer  seen  tied 
at  the  paling  on  Sunday  nights,  and  a 


deadly  feud  gradually  arose  between  him 
and  the  preceptor  of  Sleepy  Hollow. 

Brom,  who  had  a  degree  of  rough  chiv- 
alry in  his  nature,  would  fain  have  carried 
matters  to  an  open  warfare,  and  settled 
their  pretensions  to  the  lady,  according  to 
the  mode  of  those  most  concise  and  sim- 
ple reasoners,  the  knights  errant  of  yore 
— by  single  combat ;  but  Ichabod  was  too 
conscious  of  the  superior  might  of  his 
adversary  to  enter  the  lists  against  him ; 
he  had  overheard  the  boast  of  Bones,  that 
he  would  "  double  the  schoolmaster  up, 
and  put  him  on  a  shelf; "  and  he  was  too 
wary  to  give  him  the  opportunity.  There 
was  something  extremely  provoking  in 
this  obstinately  pacific  system;  it  left 
Brom  no  alternative  but  to  draw  upon 
the  funds  of  rustic  waggery  in  his  dispo- 
sition, and  to  play  off  boorish  practical 
jokes  upon  his  rival.  Ichabod  became 
the  object  of  whimsical  persecution  to 
Bones,  and  his  gang  of  rough  riders. 
They  harried  his  hitherto  peaceful  do- 
mains ;  smoked  out  his  singing-school, 
by  stopping  up  the  chimney ;  broke  into 
the  school-house  at  night,  in  spite  of  its 
formidable  fastenings  of  withe  and  win- 
dow stakes,  and  turned  every  thing  topsy- 
turvy ;  so  that  the  poor  schoolmaster  be- 
gan to  think  all  the  witches  in  the  coun- 
try held  their  meetings  there.  But  what 
was  still  more  annoying,  Brom  took  all 
opportunities  of  turning  him  into  ridicule 
in  presence  of  his  mistress,  and  had  a 
scoundrel  dog  whom  he  taught  to  whine 
in  the  most  ludicrous  manner,  and  intro- 
duced as  a  rival  of  Ichabod's,  to  instruct 
her  in  psalmody. 

In  this  way,  matters  went  on  for  some 
time,  without  producing  any  material  ef- 
fect on  the  relative  situations  of  the  con- 
tending powers.  On  a  fine  autumnal  after- 
noon, Ichabod,  in  pensive  mood,  sat  en- 
ihroned  on  the  lofty  stool  from  whence 
be  usually  watched  all  the  concerns  of  his 
little  literary  realm.  In  his  hand  he 
swayed  a  ferule,  that  sceptre  of  despotic 
power;  the  birch  of  justice  reposed  on 
three  nails,  behind  the  throne,  a  constant 
terror  to  evil  doers ;  while  on  the  desk 
before  him  might  be  seen  sundry  contra- 
band articles  and  prohibited  weapons,  de- 
tected upon  the  persons  of  idle  urchins ; 
such  as  half-munched  apples,  popguns, 
whirligigs,  fly-cages,  and  whole  legions 
of  rampant  little  paper  game-cocks.  Ap- 
parently there  had  been  some  appalling 


272 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


act  of  justice  recently  inflicted,  for  his 
scholars  were  all  busily  intent  upon  their 
books,  or  slyly  whispering  behind  them 
with  one  eye  kept  upon  the  master ;  and 
a  kind  of  buzzing  stillness  reigned 
throughout  the  school-room.  It  was  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a 
negro  in  tow-cloth  jacket  and  trowsers,  a 
round  crowned  fragment  of  a  hat,  like  the 
cap  of  Mercury,  and  mounted  on  the  back 
of  a  ragged,  wild,  half-broken  colt,  which 
he  managed  with  a  rope  by  way  of  halter. 
He  came  clattering  up  to  the  school 
door  with  an  invitation  to  Ichabod  to  at- 
tend a  merry-making,  or  "  quilting  frolic," 
to  be  held  that  evening  at  Mynheer  Van 
Tassel's ;  and  having  delivered  his  message 
with  that  air  of  importance,  and  effort  at 
fine  language,  which  a  negro  is  apt  to  dis- 
play on  petty  embassies  of  the  kind,  he 
dashed  over  the  brook,  and  was  seen 
scampering  away  up  the  hollow,  full  of 
the  importance  and  hurry  of  his  mission. 

All  was  now  bustle  and  hubbub  in  the 
late  quiet  school-room.  The  scholars 
were  hurried  through  their  lessons,  with- 
out stopping  at  trifles;  those  who  were 
nimble,  skipped  over  half  with  impunity, 
and  those  who  were  tardy,  had  a  smart 
application  now  and  then  in  the  rear,  to 
quicken  their  speed,  or  help  them  over  a 
tall  word.  Books  were  flung  aside,  with- 
out being  put  away  on  the  shelves;  ink- 
stands were  overturned,  benches  thrown 
down,  and  the  whole  school  was  turned 
loose  an  hour  before  the  usual  time ; 
bursting  forth  like  a  legion  of  young 
imps,  yelping  and  racketing  about  the 
green,  in  joy  at  their  early  emancipation. 

The  gallant  Ichabod  now  spent  at  least 
an  extra  half-hour  at  his  toilet,  brushing 
and  furbishing  up  his  best,  and  indeed 
only  suit  of  rusty  black,  and  arranging 
his  looks  by  a  bit  of  broken  looking-glass, 
that  hung  up  in  the  school-house.  That 
he  might  make  his  appearance  before  his 
mistress  in  the  true  style  of  a  cavalier,  he 
borrowed  a  horse  from  the  farmer  with 
whom  he  was  domiciliated,  a  choleric  old 
Dutchman,  of  the  name  of  Hans  Van 
Kipper,  and  thus  gallantly  mounted,  is- 
sued forth  like  a  knight-errant  in  quest 
of  adventures.  But  it  is  meet  I  should, 
in  the  true  spirit  of  romantic  story,  give 
some  account  of  the  looks  and  equipments 
of  my  hero  and  his  steed.  The  animal  he 
bestrode  was  a  broken-down  plough -horse, 
that  had  outlived  almost  every  thing  but 


his  viciousness.  He  was  gaunt  and  shag- 
;ed,  with  a  ewe  neck  and  a  head  like  a 
lammer ;  his  rusty  mane  and  tail  were 
tangled  and  knotted  with  burs ;  one  eye 
had  lost  its  pupil,  and  was  glaring  and 
spectral,  but  the  other  had  the  gleam  of 
a  genuine  devil  in  it.  Still  he  must  have 
had  fire  and  mettle  in  his  day,  if  we  may 
judge  from  his  name,  which  was  Gunpow- 
der. He  had,  in  fact,  been  a  favorite 
steed  of  his  master's,  the  choleric  Van 
Kipper,  who  was  a  furious  rider,  and  had 
infused,  very  probably,  some  of  his  own 
spirit  into  the  animal ;  for,  old  and  bro- 
ken-down as  he  looked,  there  was  more 
of  the  lurking  devil  in  him  than  in  any 
young  filly  in  the  country. 

Ichabod  was  a  suitable  figure  for  such 
a  steed.  He  rode  with  short  stirrups, 
which  brought  his  knees  nearly  up  to  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle ;  his  sharp  elbows 
stuck  out  like  grasshoppers ' ;  he  carried 
his  whip  perpendicularly  in  his  hand,  like 
a  sceptre,  and  as  the  horse  jogged  on,  the 
motion  of  his  arms  was  not  unlike  the 
flapping  of  a  pair  of  wings.  A  small  wool 
hat  rested  on  the  top  of  his  nose,  for  so 
his  scanty  strip  of  forehead  might  be 
called,  and  the  skirts  of  his  black  coat 
fluttered  out  almost  to  the  horse's  tail, 
Such  was  the  appearance  of  Ichabod  and 
his  steed,  as  they  shambled  out  of  the 
gate  of  Hans  Van  Ripper,  and  it  was 
altogether  such  an  apparition  as  is  seldom 
to  be  met  with  in  broad  daylight. 

It  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  fine  autumnal 
day ;  the  sky  was  clear  and  serene,  and 
nature  wore  that  rich  and  golden  livery 
which  we  always  associate  with  the  idea 
of  abundance.  The  forests  had  put  on 
their  sober  brown  and  yellow,  while  some 
trees  of  the  tenderer  kind  had  been  nipped 
by  the  frosts  into  brilliant  dyes  of  orange, 
purple,  and  scarlet.  Streaming  files  of 
wild  ducks  began  to  make  their  appear- 
ance high  in  the  air;  the  bark  of  the 
squirrel  might  be  heard  from  the  groves 
01  beech  and  hickory-nuts,  and  the  pen- 
sive whistle  of  the  quail  at  intervals  from 
the  neighboring  stubble  field. 

The  small  birds  were  taking  their  fare- 
well banquets.  In  the  fulness  of  their 
revelry,  they  fluttered,  chirping  and  frol- 
icking, from  bush  to  bush,  and  tree  to  tree, 
capricious  from  the  very  profusion  and 
variety  around  them.  There  was  the 
honest  cock-robin,  the  favorite  game  of 
stripling  sportsmen,  with  its  loud  queru- 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


Ions  note,  and  the  twittering  blackbirds 
flying  in  sable  clouds;  and  the  golden- 
winged  woodpecker,  with  his  crimson 
crest,  his  broad  black  gorget,  and  splendid 
plumage ;  and  the  cedar-bird,  with  its  red- 
tipt  wings  and  yellow-tipt  tail,  and  its 
little  monteiro  cap  of  feathers ;  and  the 
blue  jay,  that  noisy  coxcomb,  in  his  gay 
light  blue  coat  and  white  under  clothes, 
screaming  and  chattering,  nodding,  and 
bobbing,  and  bowing,  and  pretending  to 
be  on  good  terms  with  every  songster  of 
the  grove. 

As  Ichabod  jogged  slowly  on  his  way, 
his  eye,  ever  open  to  every  symptom  of 
culinary  abundance,  ranged  with  delight 
over  the  treasures  of  jolly  autumn.  On 
all  sides  he  beheld  vast  stores  of  apples, 
some  hanging  in  oppressive  opulence  on 
the  trees ;  some  gathered  into  baskets  and 
barrels  for  the  market ;  others  heaped  up 
in  rich  piles  for  the  cider-press.  Farther 
on  he  beheld  great  fields  of  Indian  corn, 
with  its  golden  ears  peeping  from  their 
leafy  coverts,  and  holding  out  the  prom- 
ise of  cakes  and  hasty -pudding ;  and  the 
yellow  pumpkins  lying  beneath  them, 
turning  up  their  fair  round  bellies  to  the 
sun,  and  giving  ample  prospects  of  the 
most  luxurious  of  pies:  and  anon  he 
passed  the  fragrant  buckwheat  fields 
breathing  the  odor  of  the  bee-hive,  and 
as  he  beheld  them,  soft  anticipations  stole 
over  his  mind  of  dainty  slap-jacks,  well 
buttered,  and  garnished  with  honey  or 
treacle,  by  the  delicate  little  dimpled 
hand  of  Katrina  Van  Tassel. 

Thus  feeding  his  mind  with  many  sweet 
thoughts  and  "  sugared  suppositions,"  he 
journeyed  along  the  sides  of  a  range  of 
hills  which  look  out  upon  some  of  the 
goodliest  scenes  of  the  mighty  Hudson. 
The  sun  gradually  wheeled  nis  broad  disk 
down  into  the  west.  The  wide  bosom  of 
the  Tappaan  Zee  lay  motionless  and 
glassy,  excepting  that  here  and  there  a 
gentle  undulation  waved  and  prolonged 
the  blue  shadow  of  the  distant  mountain. 
A  few  amber  clouds  floated  in  the  sky, 
without  a  breath  of  air  to  move  them. 
The  horizon  was  of  a  fine  golden  tint, 
changing  gradually  into  a  pure  apple 
green,  and  from  that  into  the  deep  blue 
of  the  mid-heaven.  A  slanting  ray  ling- 
ered on  the  woody  crests  of  the  precipices 
that  overhung  some  parts  of  the  river, 
giving  greater  depth  to  the  dark  gray  and 
purple  of  their  rocky  sides.  A  sloop  was 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


loitering  in  the  distance,  dropping  slowly 
down  with  the  tide,  her  sail  hanging  use- 
lessly against  the  mast;  and  as  the  re- 
flection of  the  sky  gleamed  along  the  still 
water,  it  seemed  as  if  the  vessel  was  sus- 
pended in  the  air. 

It  was  toward  evening  that  Ichabod 
arrived  at  the  castle  of  the  Heer  Van 
Tassel,  which  he  found  thronged  with  the 
pride  and  flower  of  the  adjacent  country. 
Old  farmers,  a  spare  leathern -faced  race, 
in  home-spun  coats  and  breeches,  blue 
stockings,  huge  shoes,  and  magnificent 
pewter  buckles.  Their  brisk,  withered 
little  dames,  in  close  crimped  caps,  long- 
waisted  gowns,  homespun  petticoats,  with 
scissors  and  pin-cushions,  and  gay  calico 
pockets  hanging  on  the  outside.  Buxom 
lasses,  almost  as  antiquated  as  their 
mothers,  excepting  where  a  straw  hat,  a 
fine  riband,  or  perhaps  a  white  frock,  gave 
symptoms  of  city  innovations.  The  sons, 
in  short  square-skirted  coats,  with  rows  of 
stupendous  brass  buttons,  and  their  hair 
generally  queued  in  the  fasliion  of  the 
times,  especially  if  they  could  procure  an 
eelskin  for  the  purpose,  it  being  esteemed 
throughout  the  country,  as  a  potent 
nourisher  and  strengthener  of  the  hair. 

Brom  Bones,  however,  was  the  hero  of 
the  scene,  having  come  to  the  gathering 
on  his  favourite  steed  Daredevil,  a  crea- 
ture, like  himself,  full  of  mettle  and 
mischief,  and  which  no  one  but  himself 
could  manage.  He  was,  in  fact,  noted  for 
preferring  vicious  animals,  given  to  all 
kinds  of  tricks  which  kept  the  rider  in 
constant  risk  of  his  neck,  for  he  held  a 
tractable  well-broken  horse  as  unworthy 
of  a  lad  of  spirit. 

Fain  would  I  pause  to  dwell  upon  the 
world  of  charms  that  burst  upon  the  en- 
raptured gaze  of  my  hero,  as  he  entered 
the  state  parlor  of  Van  Tassel's  mansion. 
Not  those  of  the  bevy  of  buxom  lasses, 
with  their  luxurious  display  of  red  and 
white  ;  but  the  ample  charms  of  a  genuine 
Dutch  country  tea-table,  in  the  sumptuous 
time  of  autumn.  Such  heaped-up  platters 
of  cakes  of  various  and  almost  indescrib- 
able kinds,  known  only  to  experienced 
Dutch  housewives !  There  was  the  doughty 
dough-nut,  the  tender  oly-koek,  and  the 
crisp  and  crumbling  cruller ;  sweet  cakes 
and  short  cakes,  ginger  cakes  and  honey 
cakes,  and  the  whole  family  of  cakes. 
And  then  there  were  apple  pies,  and  peach 
pies,  and  pumpkin  pies ;  besides  slices  of 

18 


274 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


ham  and  smoked  beef;  and  moreover 
delectable  dishes  of  preserved  plums,  and 
peaches,  and  pears,  and  quinces ;  not  to 
mention  broiled  shad  and  roasted  chick- 
ens; together  with  bowls  of  milk  and 
cream,  all  mingled  higgledy-piggledy, 
pretty  much  as  I  have  enumerated  them, 
with  the  motherly  tea-pot  sending  up  its 
clouds  of  vapor  from  the  midst — Heaven 
bless  the  mark !  I  want  breath  and  time 
to  discuss  the  banquet  as  it  deserves,  and 
am  too  eager  to  get  on  with  my  story. 
Happily,  Ichabod  Crane  was  not  in  so 
great  a  hurry  as  his  historian,  but  did 
ample  justice  to  every  dainty. 

He  was  a  kind  and  thankful  creature, 
whose  heart  dilated  in  proportion  as  his 
skin  was  filled  with  good  cheer,  and  whose 
spirits  rose  with  eating,  as  some  men's  do 
with  drink.  He  could  not  help,  too, 
rolling  his  large  eyes  round  him  as  he  ate, 
and  chuckling  with  the  possibility  that  he 
might  one  day  be  lord  of  all  this  scene  of 
almost  unimaginable  luxury  and  splen- 
dor. Then,  he  thought,  how  soon  he'd 
turn  his  back  upon  the  old  school-house ; 
snap  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  Hans  Van 
Ripper,  and  every  other  niggardly  patron, 
and  kick  any  itinerant  pedagogue  out  of 
doors  that  should  dare  to  call  him  com- 
rade! 

Old  Baltus  Van  Tassel  moved  about 
among  his  guests  with  a  face  dilated  with 
content  and  good-humor,  round  and  jolly 
as  the  harvest  moon.  His  hospitable 
attentions  were  brief,  but  expressive, 
being  confined  to  a  shake  of  the  hand,  a 
slap  on  the  shoulder,  a  loud  laugh,  and  a 
pressing  invitation  to  "  fall  to,  and  help 
themselves.'' 

And  now  the  sound  of  the  music  from 
the  common  room,  or  hall,  summoned  to 
the  dance.  The  musician  was  an  old 
gray-headed  negro,  who  had  been  the 
itinerant  orchestra  of  the  neighborhood 
for  more  than  half  a  century.  His  instru- 
ment was  as  old  and  battered  as  himself. 
The  greater  part  of  the  time  he  scraped 
away  on  two  or  three  strings,  accompany- 
ing every  movement  of  the  bow  with  a 
motion  of  the  head  ;  bowing  almost  to  the 
ground,  and  stamping  with  his  foot  when- 
ever a  fresh  couple  were  to  start. 

Ichabod  prided  himself  upon  his  danc- 
ing as  much  as  upon  his  vocal  powers. 
Not  a  limb,  not  a  fibre  about  him  was 
idle ;  and  to  have  seen  his  loosely  hung 
frame  in  full  motion,  and  clattering  about 


the  room,  you  would  have  thought  St. 
Vitus  himself,  that  blessed  patron  of  the 
dance,  was  figuring  before  you  in  person. 
He  was  the  admiration  of  all  the  negroes ; 
who,  having  gathered,  of  all  ages  and 
sizes,  from  the  farm  and  the  neighbor- 
hood, stood  forming  a  pyramid  of  shining 
black  faces  at  every  door  and  window ; 
gazing  with  delight  at  the  scene ;  rolling 
their  white  eye-balls,  and  showing  grin- 
ning rows  of  ivory  from  ear  to  ear.  How 
could  the  flogger  of  urchins  be  otherwise 
than  animated  and  joyous?  the  lady  of 
his  heart  was  his  partner  in  the  dance, 
and  smiling  graciously  in  reply  to  all  his 
amorous  oglings ;  while  Brom  Bones, 
sorely  smitten  with  love  and  jealousy,  sat 
brooding  by  himself  in  one  corner. 

When  the  dance  was  at  an  end,  Ichabod 
was  attracted  to  a  knot  of  the  sager  folks, 
who,  with  Old  Van  Tassel,  sat  smoking 
at  one  end  of  the  piazza,  gossiping  over 
former  times,  and  drawling  out  long 
stories  about  the  war. 

This  neighborhood,  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  speaking,  was  one  of  those 
highly  favored  places  which  abound  with 
chronicle  and  great  men.  The  British  and 
American  line  had  run  near  it  during  the 
war ;  it  had,  therefore,  been  the  scene  of 
marauding,  and  infested  with  refugees, 
cow-boys,  and  all  kind  of  border  chivalry. 
Just  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  to  enable 
each  story-teller  to  dress  up  his  tale  with 
a  little  becoming  fiction,  and,  in  the  indis- 
tinctness of  his  recollection,  to  make  him- 
self the  hero  of  every  exploit. 

There  was  the  story  of  Doffue  Mart- 
ling,  a  large  blue-bearded  Dutchman,  who 
had  nearly  taken  a  British  frigate  with 
an  old  iron  nine-pounder  from  a  mud 
breastwork,  only  that  his  gun  burst  at  the 
sixth  discharge.  And  there  was  an  old 
gentleman  who  shall  be  nameless,  being 
too  rich  a  mynheer  to  be  lightly  men- 
tioned, who,  in  the  battle  of  Whiteplains, 
being  an  excellent  master  of  defence, 
parried  a  musket-ball  with  a  small-sword, 
insomuch  that  he  absolutely  felt  it  whiz 
round  the  blade,  and  glance  off  at  the  hilt ; 
in  proof  of  which  he  was  ready  at  any 
time  to  show  the  sword,  with  the  hilt  a 
little  bent.  There  were  several  more  that 
had  been  equally  great  in  the  field,  not 
one  of  whom  but  was  persuaded  that  he 
had  a  considerable  hand  in  bringing  the 
war  to  a  happy  termination. 

But  all  these  were  nothing  to  the  talea 


THE  LEGEXD  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


275 


of  ghosts  and  apparitions  that  succeeded. 
The  neighborhood  is  rich  in  legendary 
treasures  of  the  kind.  Local  tales  and 
superstitious  thrive  best  in  these  sheltered, 
long-settled  retreats ;  but  are  trampled 
under  foot,  by  the  shifting  throng  that 
forms  the  population  of  most  of  our  coun- 
try places.  Besides,  there  is  no  encour- 
agement for  ghosts  in  most  of  our  villages, 
for  they  have  scarcely  had  time  to  finish 
their  first  nap,  and  turn  themselves  in 
their  graves,  before  their  surviving  friends 
have  travelled  away  from  the  neighbor- 
hood :  so  that  when  they  turn  out  at  night 
to  walk  their  rounds,  they  have  no  ac- 
quaintance left  to  call  upon.  This  is 
perhaps  the  reason  why  we  so  seldom 
hear  of  ghosts  except  in  our  long-estab- 
lished Dutch  communities. 

The  immediate  cause,  however,  of  the 
prevalence  of  supernatural  stories  in  these 
parts,  was  doubtless  owing  to  the  vicinity 
of  Sleepy  Hollow.  There  was  a  contag- 
ion in  the  very  air  that  blew  from  that 
haunted  region  ;  it  breathed  forth  an  at- 
mosphere of  dreams  and  fancies  infecting 
all  the  land.  Several  of  the  Sleepy  Hol- 
low people  were  present  at  Van  Tassel's, 
and,  as  usual,  were  doling  out  their  wild 
and  wonderful  legends.  Many  dismal 
tales  were  told  about  funeral  trains,  and 
mourning  cries  and  wailings  heard  and 
seen  about  the  great  tree  where  the  unfor- 
tunate Major  Andre  was  taken,  and  which 
stood  in  the  neighborhood.  Some  men- 
tion was  made  also  of  the  woman  in  white, 
that  haunted  the  dark  glen  at  Raven 
Rock,  and  was  often  heard  to  shriek  on 
winter  nights  before  a  storm,  having  per- 
ished there  in  the  snow.  The  chief  part 
of  the  stories,  however,  turned  upon  the 
favorite  spectre  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  the 
headless  horseman,  who  had  been  heard 
several  times  of  late,  patrolling  the  coun- 
try; and  it  is  said,  tethered  his  horse 
nightly  among  the  graves  in  the  church 
yard. 

The  sequestered  situation  of  this  church 
seems  always  to  have  made  it  a  favorite 
haunt  of  troubled  spirits.  It  stands  on  a 
knoll,  surrounded  by  locust  trees  and 
lofty  elms,  from  among  which  its  decent, 
whitewashed  walls  shine  modestly  forth, 
like  Christian  purity,  beaming  through 
the  shades  of  retirement.  A  gentle  slope 
descends  from  it  to  a  silver  sheet  of  water, 
bordered  by  high  trees,  between  which, 
peeps  may  be  caught  at  the  blue  hills  of 


the  Hudson.  To  look  upon  its  grass- 
grown  yard,  where  the  sunbeams  seem  to 
sleep  so  quietly,  one  would  think  that 
there  at  least  the  dead  might  rest  in  peace. 
On  one  side  of  the  church  extends  a  wide 
woody  dell,  along  which  raves  a  large 
brook  among  broken  rocks  and  trunks  of 
fallen  trees.  Over  a  deep  black  part  of 
the  stream,  not  far  from  the  church,  was 
formerly  thrown  a  wooden  bridge ;  the 
road  that  led  to  it,  and  the  bridge  itself, 
were  thickly  shaded  by  overhanging  trees, 
which  cast  a  gloom  about  it,  even  in  the 
day-time ;  but  occasioned  a  fearful  dark- 
ness at  night.  Such  was  one  of  the  favor- 
ite haunts  of  the  headless  horseman,  and 
the  place  where  he  was  most  frequently 
encountered.  The  tale  was  told  of  old 
Brouwer,  a  most  heretical  disbeliever  in 
ghosts,  how  he  met  the  horseman  return- 
ing from  his  foray  into  Sleepy  Hollow, 
and  was  obliged  to  get  up  behind  him ; 
how  they  galloped  over  bush  and  brake, 
over  hill  and  swamp,  until  they  reached 
the  bridge  ;  when  the  horseman  suddenly 
turned  into  a  skeleton,  threw  old  Brouwer 
into  the  brook,  and  sprang  away  over  the 
tree-tops  with  a  clap  of  thunder. 

This  story  was  immediately  matched 
by  a  thrice  marvellous  adventure  of  Brom 
Bones,  who  made  light  of  the  galloping 
Hessian  as  an  arrant  jockey.  He  affirmed, 
that  on  returning  one  night  from  the 
neighboring  village  of  Sing-Sing,  he  had 
been  overtaken  by  this  midnight  trooper ; 
that  he  had  offered  to  race  with  him  for  a 
bowl  of  punch,  and  should  have  won  it 
i  too,  for  Daredevil  beat  the  goblin  horse 
all  hollow,  but  just  as  they  came  to  the 
church  bridge,  the  Hessian  bolted  and 
vanished  in  a  flash  of  fire. 

All  these  tales,  told  in  that  drowsy  un- 
dertone with  which  men  talk  in  the  dark, 
the  countenances  of  the  listeners  only  now 
and  then  receiving  a  casual  gleam  from 
the  glare  of  a  pipe,  sunk  deep  in  the  mind 
of  Ichabod.  He  repaid  them  in  kind 
with  large  extracts  from  his  invaluable 
author,  Cotton  Mather,  and  added  many 
marvellous  events  that  had  taken  place 
in  his  native  State  of  Connecticut,  and 
fearful  sights  which  he  had  seen  in  his 
nightly  walks  about  Sleepy  Hollow. 

The  revel  now  gradually  broke  up. 
The  old  farmers  gathered  together  their 
families  in  their  wagons,  and  were  heard 
for  some  time  rattling  along  the  hollow 
roads,  and  over  the  distant  hills.  Some 


276 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


of  the  damsels  mounted  on  pillions  behind 
their  favorite  swains,  and  their  light- 
hearted  laughter,  mingling-  with  the  clat- 
ter of  hoofs,  echoed  along  the  silent  wood- 
lands, sounding  fainter  and  fainter,  until 
they  gradually  died  away — and  the  late 
scene  of  noise  and  frolic  was  all  silent 
and  deserted.  Ichabod  only  lingered  be- 
hind, according  to  the  custom  of  country 
lovers,  to  have  a  te'te-a-te'te  with  the  heir- 
ess ;  fully  convinced  that  he  was  now  on 
the  high  road  to  success.  What  passed 
at  this  interview  I  will  not  pretend  to  say, 
for  in  fact  I  do  not  know.  Something, 
however,  I  fear  me,  must  have  gone  wrong, 
for  he  certainly  sallied  forth,  after  no  great 
interval,  with  an  air  quite  desolate  and 
chapfallen — Oh,  these  women  !  these 
women !  Could  that  girl  have  been  play- 
ing off  any  of  her  coquettish  tricks? — 
Was  her  encouragement  of  the  poor  peda- 
gogue all  a  mere  sham  to  secure  her  con- 
quest of  his  rival  ? — Heaven  only  knows, 
not  I ! — Let  it  suffice  to  say,  Ichabod  stole 
forth  with  the  air  of  one  who  had  been 
sacking  a  henroost,  rather  than  a  fair 
lady's  heart.  Without  looking  to  the 
right  or  left  to  notice  the  scene  of  rural 
wealth,  on  which  he  had  so  often  gloated, 
he  went  straight  to  the  stable,  and  with 
several  hearty  cuffs  and  kicks,  roused  his 
steed  most  uncourteously  from  the  com- 
fortable quarters  in  which  he  was  soundly 
sleeping,  dreaming  of  mountains  of  corn 
and  oats,  and  whole  valleys  of  timothy 
and  clover. 

It  was  the  very  witching  time  of  night 
that  Ichabod,  heavy-hearted  and  crest- 
fallen, pursued  his  travel  homewards  along 
the  sides  of  the  lofty  hills  which  rise 
above  Tarry  Town,  and  which  he  had  tra- 
versed so  cheerily  in  the  afternoon.  The 
hour  was  as  dismal  as  himself.  Far  be- 
low him  the  Tappaan  Zee  spread  its  dusky 
and  indistinct  waste  of  waters,  with  here 
and  there  the  tall  mast  of  a  sloop,  riding 
quietly  at  anchor  under  the  land.  In  the 
dead  hush  of  midnight,  he  could  even 
hear  the  barking  of  the  watch-dog  from 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  Hudson ;  but  it 
was  so  vague  and  faint  as  only  to  give  an 
idea  of  his  distance  from  this  faithful  com- 
panion of  man.  Now  and  then,  too,  the 
long-drawn  crowing  of  a  cock,  accidentally 
awakened,  would  sound  far,  far  off,  from 
some  farm-house  away  among  the  hills — 
but  it  was  like  a  dreaming  sound  in  his 
ear.  No  signs  of  life  occurred  near  him, 


but  occasionally  the  melancholy  chirp  of 
a  cricket,  or  perhaps  the  guttural  twang  of 
a  bull-frog,  from  a  neighboring  marsh, 
as  if  sleeping  uncomfortably,  and  turning 
suddenly  in  his  bed. 

All  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  goblins 
that  he  had  heard  in  the  afternoon,  now 
came  crowding  upon  his  recollection. 
The  night  drew  darker  and  darker;  the 
stars  seemed  to  sink  deeper  in  the  sky, 
and  driving  clouds  occasionally  hid  them 
from  his  sight.  He  had  never  felt  so  lonely 
and  dismal.  He  was,  moreover,  approach- 
ing the  very  place  where  many  of  the 
scenes  of  the  ghost  stories  had  been  laid. 
In  the  centre  of  the  road  stood  an  enor- 
mous tulip-tree,  which  towered  like  a 
giant  above  all  the  other  trees  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  formed  a  kind  of 
landmark.  Its  limbs  were  gnarled  and 
fantastic,  large  enough  to  form  trunks  for 
ordinary  trees,  twisting  down  almost  to 
the  earth,  and  rising  again  into  the  air.  It 
was  connected  with  the  tragical  story  of  the 
unfortunate  Andre,  who  had  been  taken 
prisoner  hard  by,  and  was  universally 
known  by  the  name  of  Major  Andre's  tree. 
The  common  people  regarded  it  with  a 
mixture  of  respect  and  superstition, 
partly  out  of  sympathy  for  the  fate  of  its 
ill-starred  namesake,  and  partly  from  the 
tales  of  strange  sights,  and  doleful  lamen- 
tations, told  concerning  it. 

As  Ichabod  approached  this  fearful 
tree,  he  began  to  whistle ;  he  thought  his 
whistle  was  answered  :  it  was  but  a  blast 
sweeping  sharply  through  the  dry 
branches.  As  he  approached  a  little 
nearer,  he  thought  he  saw  something 
white,  hanging  in  the  midst  of  the  tree  : 
he  paused,  and  ceased  whistling  ;  but  on 
looking  more  narrowly,  perceived  that  it 
was  a  place  where  the  tree  had  been 
scathed  by  lightning,  and  the  white  wood 
laid  bare.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  groan — 
his  teeth  chattered,  and  his  knees  smote 
against  the  saddle :  it  was  but  the  rubbing 
of  one  huge  bough  upon  another,  as  they 
were  swayed  about  by  the  breeze.  He 
passed  the  tree  in  safety,  but  new  perils 
lay  before  him. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  tree, 
a  small  brook  crossed  the  road,  and  ran 
into  a  marshy  and  thickly-wooded  glen, 
known  by  the  name  of  Wiley's  Swamp. 
A  few  rough  logs,  laid  side  by  side,  served 
for  a  bridge  over  this  stream.  On  that 
side  of  the  road  where  the  brook  entered 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


277 


the  wood,  a  group  of  oaks  and  chesnuts 
matted     thick    with    wild     grape-vines 
threw  a  cavernous  gloom  over  it.   To  pas 
this  bridge,  was  the  severest  trial.   It  wa 
at  this  identical  spot  that  the  unfortunat 
Andre   was    captured,    and    under     th 
covert  of  those  chesnuts  and  vines  were 
the  sturdy  yeomen  concealed   who  sur 
prised   him.     This  has  ever  since  been 
considered  a  haunted  stream,  and  fearfu 
are  the  feelings  of  the  school-boy  who  has 
to  pass  it  alone  after  dark. 

As  he  approached  the  stream,  his  heart 
began  to  thump  ;  he  summoned  up,  how 
ever,  all  his  resolution,  gave  his  horse  bal: 
a  score  of  kicks  in  the  ribs,  and  attempted 
to  dash  briskly  across  the  bridge ;  but  in- 
stead of  starting  forward,  the  perverse  old 
animal  made  a  lateral  movement,  and  ran 
broadside  against  the  fence.  Ichabod, 
whose  fears  increased  with  the  delay, 
jerked  the  reins 'on  the  other  side,  and 
kicked  lustily  with  the  contrary  foot :  it 
was  all  in  vain ;  his  steed  started,  it  is 
true,  but  it  was  only  to  plunge  to  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  road  into  a  thicket  of 
brambles  and  alder-bushes.  The  school- 
master now  bestowed  both  whip  and  heel 
upon  the  starveling  ribs  of  old  Gun- 
powder, who  dashed  forward,  snuffling 
and  snorting,  but  came  to  a  stand  just  by 
the  bridge,  with  a  suddenness  that  had 
nearly  sent  his  rider  sprawling  over  his 
head.  Just  at  this  moment  a  plashy 
tramp  by  the  side  of  the  bridge  caught 
the  sensitive  ear  of  Ichabod.  In  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  grove,  on  the  margin  of  the 
brook,  he  beheld  something  huge,  mis- 
shapen, black  and  towering.  It  stirred 
not,  but  seemed  gathered  up  in  the  gloom, 
like  same  gigantic  monster  ready  to  spring 
upon  the  traveller. 

The  hair  of  the  affrighted  pedagogue 
rose  upon  his  head  with  terror.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  To  turn  and  fly  was 
now  too  late;  and  besides,  what  chance 
was  there  of  escaping  ghost  or  goblin,  if 
such  it  was,  which  could  ride  upon  the 
wings  of  the  wind  ?  Summoning  up, 
therefore,  a  show  of  courage,  he  demanded 
in  stammering  accents — "  Who  are  you  ?  " 
He  received  no  reply.  He  repeated  his 
demand  in  a  still  more  agitated  voice. 
Still  there  was  no  answer.  Once  more  he 
cudgelled  the  sides  of  the  inflexible  Gun- 
powder, and  shutting  his  eyes,  broke  forth 
with  involuntary  fervor  into  a  psalm 
tune.  Just  then  the  shadowy  object  of 


alarm  put  itself  in  motion,  and  with  a 
scramble  and  a  bound,  stood  at  once  in 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Though  the  night 
was  dark  and  dismal,  yet  the  form  of  the 
unknown  might  in  some  degree  be  ascer- 
tained. He  appeared  to  be  a  horseman 
of  large  dimensions,  and  mounted  on  a 
black  horse  of  powerful  frame.  He  made 
no  offer  of  molestation  or  sociability,  but 
kept  aloof  on  one  side  of  the  road,  jogging 
along  on  the  blind  side  of  old  Gunpowder, 
who  had  now  got  over  his  fright  and  way- 
wardness. 

Ichabod,   who  had  no  relish   for  this 
strange  midnight    companion,   and    be- 
thought himself  of  the  adventure  of  Brom 
Bones  with  the  galloping  Hessian,  now 
quickened  his  steed,  in  hopes  of  leaving 
him    behind.      The    stranger,    however, 
quickened  his  horse  to  an   equal  pace. 
Ichabod  pulled  up,  and  fell  into  a  walk, 
thinking  to  lag  behind — the  other  did  the 
same.     His  heart  began  to  sink  within 
him  ;  he  endeavored  to  resume  his  psalm 
tune,  but  his  parched  tongue  clove  to  the 
roof  of  his  mouth,  and  he  could  not  utter 
a  stave.      There  was  something  in  the 
moody  and  dogged  silence  of  this  pertina- 
ious  companion,  that  was  mysterious  and 
appalling.  It  was  soon  fearfully  accounted 
For.   On  mounting  a  rising  ground,  which 
wrought  the  figure  of  his  fellow-traveller 
n  relief  against  the  sky,  gigantic  in  height, 
and  muffled  in  a  cloak,  Ichabod  was  horror- 
struck,  on  perceiving  that  he  was  head- 
ess  !  but  his  horror  was  still  more  in- 
creased,   on    observing    that    the    head, 
which  should  have  rested  on  his  shoulders, 
was  carried  before  him  on  the  pommel 
of  his  saddle  I    His  terror  rose  to  despera- 
ion ;  he  rained  a  shower  of  kicks  and 
)lows  upon    Gunpowder,   hoping,   by  a 
sudden  movement,  to  give  his  companion 
:    slip — but    the   spectre    started   full 
ump    with    him.       Away,    then,    they 
dashed,   through   thick  and  thin ;  stones 
lying  and  sparks  flashing  at  every  bound, 
chabod's  flimsy  garments  fluttered  in  the 
air,  as  he   stretched  his  long  lank  body 
away  over  his  horse's  head,  in  the  eager- 
ness of  his  flight. 

They  had  now  reached  the  road  which 

urns  off  to  Sleepy  Hollow ;  but  Gun- 

>owder,  who  seemed  possessed  with  a  de- 

non,  instead  of  keeping  up  it,  made  an 

>pposite  turn,  and  plunged  headlong  down 

ill  to  the  left.    This  road  leads  through 

a  sandy  hollow,  shaded  by  trees  for  about 


278 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


a  quarter  of  a  mile,  where  it  crosses  the 
bridge  famous  in  goblin  story ;  and  just 
beyond  swells  the  green  knoll  on  which 
stands  the  whitewashed  church. 

As  yet  the  panic  of  the  steed  had  given 
his  unskilful  rider  an  apparent  advantage 
in  the  chase  ;  but  just  as  he  had  got  half- 
way through  the  hollow,  the  girths  of  the 
saddle  gave  way,  and  he  felt  it  slipping 
from  under  him.  He  seized  it  by  the 
pommel,  and  endeavored  to  hold  it  firm, 
but  in  vain ;  and  had  just  time  to  save 
himself  by  clasping  old  Gunpowder  round 
tke  neck,  when  the  saddle  fell  to  the  earth, 
and  he  heard  it  trampled  under  foot  by 
his  pursuer. 

For  a  moment  the  terror  of  Hans 
Van  Eipper's  wrath  passed  across  his 
mind — for  it  was  his  Sunday  saddle; 
but  this  was  no  time  for  petty  fears :  the 
goblin  was  hard  on  his  haunches ;  and, 
(unskilful  rider  that  he  was!)  he  had 
much  ado  to  maintain  his  seat;  sometimes 
slipping  on  one  side,  sometimes  on  an- 
other, and  sometimes  jolted  on  the  high 
ridge  of  his  horse's  backbone,  with  a  vio- 
lence that  he  verily  feared  would  cleave 
him  asunder. 

An  opening  in  the  tree  now  cheered 
him  with  the  hopes  that  the  church  bridge 
was  at  hand.  The  wavering  reflection  of 
a  silver  star  in  the  bosom  of  the  brook  told 
him  that  he  was  not  mistaken.  He  saw 
the  walls  of  the  church  dimly  glaring 
under  the  trees  beyond.  He  recollected 
the  place  where  Brom  Bones'  ghostly 
competitor  had  disappeared.  "  If  I  can 
but  reach  that  bridge,"  thought  Ichabod, 
"  I  am  safe."  Just  then  he  heard  the 
black  steed  panting  and  blowing  close  be- 
hind him ;  he  even  fancied  that  he  felt 
his  hot  breath.  Another  convulsive  kick 
in  the  ribs,  and  old  Gunpowder  sprung 
upon  the  bridge ;  he  thundered  over  the 
resounding  planks ;  he  gained  the  opposite 
side,  and  now  Ichabod  cast  a  look  behind 
to  see  if  his  pursuer  should  vanish,  accord- 
ing to  rule,  in  a  flash  of  fire  and  brim- 
stone. 

Just  then  he  saw  the  goblin  rising 
in  his  stirrups,  and  in  the  very  act  of 
hurling  his  head  at  him.  Ichabod  en- 
deavored to  dodge  the  horrible  missile, 
but  too  late.  It  encountered  his  cranium 
with  a  tremendous  crash — he  was  tumbled 
headlong  into  the  dust,  and  Gunpowder, 
the  black  steed,  and  the  goblin  rider, 
passed  by  like  a  whirlwind. 


The  next  morning  the  old  horse  was 
found  without  his  saddle,  and  with  the 
bridle  under  his  feet,  soberly  cropping 
the  grass  at  his  master's  gate.  Ichabod 
did  not  make  his  appearance  at  breakfast 
— dinner-hour  came,  but  no  Ichabod.  The 
boys  assembled  at  the  school-house,  and 
strolled  idly  about  the  banks  of  the  brook ; 
but  no  schoolmaster.  Hans  Van  Kipper 
now  began  to  feel  some  uneasiness  about 
the  fate  of  poor  Ichabod,  and  his  saddle. 
An  inquiry  was  set  on  foot,  and  after  dili- 
gent investigation  they  came  upon  his 
traces. 

In  one  part  of  the  road  leading  to  the 
church,  was  found  the  saddle  trampled 
in  the  dirt;  the  tracks  of  horses'  hoofs 
deeply  dented  in  the  road,  and  evi- 
dently at  furious  speed,  were  traced  to  the 
bridge,  beyond  which,  on  the  bank  of  a 
broad  part  of  the  brook,  where  the  water 
ran  deep  and  black,  was  found  the  hat  of 
the  unfortunate  Ichabod,  and  close  beside 
it  a  shattered  pumpkin. 

The  brook  was  searched,  but  the  body 
of  the  schoolmaster  was  not  to  be  dis- 
covered. Hans  Van  Kipper,  as  executor 
of  his  estate,  examined  the  bundle  which 
contained  all  his  worldly  effects.  They 
consisted  of  two  shirts  and  a  half;  two 
stocks  for  the  neck  ;  a  pair  or  two  of  wor- 
sted stockings ;  an  old  pair  of  corduroy 
small-clothes;  a  rusty  razor;  a  book  of 
psalm  tunes  full  of  dog's  ears;  and  a 
broken  pitch-pipe.  As  to  the  books 
and  furniture  of  the  school-house,  they 
belonged  to  the  community,  excepting 
Cotton  Mather's  History  of  Witchcraft,  a 
New-England  Almanac,  and  a  book  of 
dreams  and  fortune-telling ;  in  which  last 
was  a  sheet  of  foolscap  much  scribbled 
and  blotted,  by  several  fruitless  attempts 
to  make  a  copy  of  verses  in  honor  of  the 
heiress  of  Van  Tassel.  These  magic  books 
and  the  poetic  scrawl  were  forthwith  con- 
signed to  the  flames  by  Hans  Van  Ripper ; 
who,  from  that  time  forward,  determined 
to  send  his  children  no  more  to  school ; 
observing,  that  he  never  knew  any  good 
come  of  this  same  reading  and  writing. 
Whatever  money  the  schoolmaster  pos- 
sessed, and  he  had  received  his  quarter's 
pay  but  a  day  or  two  before,  he  must  have 
had  about  his  person  at  the  time  of  his 
disappearance. 

The  mysterious  event  caused  much  spe- 
culation at  the  church  on  the  following 
Sunday.  Knots  of  gazers  and  gossips  were 


A  REJECTED  MANUSCRIPT. 


279 


collected  in  the  churchyard,  at  the  bridge, 
and  at  the  spot  where  the  hat  and  pump- 
kin had  been  found.  The  stories  of 
Brouwer,  of  Bones,  and  a  whole  budget  of 
others,  were  called  to  mind ;  and  when 
they  had  diligently  considered  them  all, 
and  compared  them  with  the  symptoms 
of  the  present  case,  they  shook  their 
heads,  and  came  to  the  conclusion,  that 
Ichabod  had  been  carried  off  by  the 
galloping  Hessian.  As  he  was  a  bachelor, 
and  in  nobody's  debt,  nobody  troubled  his 
head  any  more  about  him ;  the  school  was 
removed  to  a  different  quarter  of  the 
Hollow,  and  another  pedagogue  reigned 
in  his  stead. 

It  is  true,  an  old  farmer,  who  had  been 
down  to  New  York  on  a  visit  several 
years  after,  and  from  whom  this  account 
of  the  ghostly  adventure  was  received, 
brought  home  the  intelligence  that  Icha- 
bod Crane  was  still  alive  ;  that  he  had  left 
the  neighborhood  partly  through  fear  of 
the  goblin  and  Hans  Van  Ripper,  and  part- 
ly in  mortification  at  having  been  suddenly 
dismissed  by  the  heiress ;  that  he  had 
changed  his  quarters  to  a  distant  part  of 
the  country ;  had  kept  school  and  studied 
law  at  the  same  time ;  had  been  admitted 
to  the  bar;  turned  politician;  election- 
eered ;  written  for  the  newspapers ;  and 
finally,  had  been  made  a  Justice  of  the 
Ten  Pound  Court.  Brom  Bones,  too, 
who,  shortly  after  his  rival's  disappear- 
ance, conducted  the  blooming  Katrina  in 
triumph  to  the  altar,  was  observed  to 
look  exceedingly  knowing  whenever  the 
story  of  Ichabod  was  related,  and  always 
burst  into  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  mention 
of  the  pumpkin ;  which  led  some  to 
suspect  that  he  knew  more  about  the 
matter  than  he  chose  to  tell. 

The  old.  country  wives,  however,  who 
are  the  best  judges  of  these  matters,  main- 
tain to  this  day,  that  Ichabod  was  spirited 
;i way  by  supernatural  means;  and  it  is  a 
favorite  story  often  told  about  the  neigh- 
borhood round  the  winter  evening  fire. 
The  bridge  became  more  than  ever  an  ob- 
ject of  superstitious  awe ;  and  that  may 
be  the  reason  why  the  road  has  been 
altered  of  late  years,  so  as  to  approach 
the  church  by  the  border  of  the  mill-pond. 

The  school-house  being  deserted,  soon 
fell  to  decav,  and  was  reported  to  be 
haunted  by  the  ghost  of  the  unfortunate 
pedagogue  ;  and  the  plough-boy,  loitering 
homeward  of  a  still  summer  evening,  has 


often  fancied  his  voice  at  a  distance, 
chanting  a  melancholy  psalm  tune  among 
the  tranquil  solitudes  of  Sleepy  Hollow. 

END  OF  THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


A  REJECTED   MANUSCRIPT. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  an  aspiring  author 
presented  to  M.  Monvel,  the  famous  comic 
actor,  a  manuscript  tied  with  red  tape, 
and  begged  him  to  give  an  impartial 
opinion  of  the  production.  The  comedian 
promised  to  do  so,  and  the  young  man — 
the  comedian  thought  him  very  young — 
waited  for  six  months  and  more  before  he 
inquired  as  to  his  friend's  verdict.  At 
length  he  put  the  solemn  question,  "Was 
the  piece  adapted  for  the  stage?''  The 
comedian  promised  to  let  him  know  in  a 
day  or  two,  so  three  more  weeks  went  by. 
Then  again  the  author  importuned  the 
actor  and  begged  him  not  to  defer  his 
hopes  any  longer.  "Well,  then,"  said 
the  actor,  "  the  fact  is  your  play  is  de- 
cidedly clever,  I  may  say  particularly 
clever,  but  it  is  not  quite' the  thing  for 
the  stage  ;  the  scenes,  the  acting,  the  de- 
velopment of  the  plot,  the  tag,  in  fact  it 
requires  adapting  to  the  stage  before  it 
could  be  possibly  produced.  I  must 
decline  it;  unwillingly,  of  course,  but 
still — "  The  young  author  interrupted 
him:  "Will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
point  out  a  fault  ?  "  The  actor  was  con- 
fused ;  he  toyed  with  the  manuscript,  still 
criticising  its  defects ;  the  author  seized 
it  from  him,  untied  the  tape,  unrolled  the 
paper,  and  with  a  laugh  showed  him  that 
the  whole  was  blank !  The  comedian  had 
never  untied  the  packet. 


A  DISTINCTION. — An  eminent  judge 
used  to  say  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  very 
best  thing  ever  said  by  a  witness  to  a  coun- 
sel, was  the  reply  given  to  Missing,  the 
barrister,  at  the  time  leader  of  his  circuit. 
He  was  defending  a  prisoner  charged  with 
stealing  a  donkey.  The  prosecutor  had 
left  the  animal  tied  up  to  a  gate,  and  when 
he  returned  it  was  gone.  Missing  was 
very  severe  in  his  examination  of  the  wit- 
nesvs.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  witness,  the 
donkey  was  stolen  from  that  gate?" 
mean  to  say,  sir,"  giving  the  judge  and 
then  the  jury  a  sly  look,  "the  ass  was 
Missing." 


280 


MR.  McKENZlE  ON  THE  TA1UFF 


BEN  BLOCK. 

BEN  BLOCK  was  a  vet*  ran  of  naval  renown, 

And  renown  was  his  only  reward  ; 
For  the  Board  still  neglected  his  merits  to 

crown, 

As  no  int'rest  he  held  with  my  lord. 
Yet  brave  as  old  Benbow  was  sturdy  Old 

Ben, 
And  he'd  laugh   at  the   cannon's  loud 

roar; 
When  the  death-dealing   broadside  made 

worms'  meat  of  men, 
And  the  scuppers  were  streaming  with 
gore. 

Nor  could  a  lieutenant's  poor  stipend  pro- 
voke 

The  staunch  tar  to  despise  scanty  prog  ; 
For  a  biscuit  he'd  crack,  turn   his  quid, 

crack  his  joke, 

And  drown  care  in  a  jorum  of  grog. 
Thus,  year  after  year,  in  a  subaltern  state, 
Poor  Ben  for  his  king  fought  and  bled  ; 
Till  time  had  unroof  d  all  the  thatch  from 

his  pate, 
And  the  hair  from  his  temples  had  fled. 

When,  on  humbly  saluting,  with  sinciput 

bare, 

A  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  once  ; 
Says  his  loidship,  "  Lieutenant,  you  've  lost 

all  your  hair, 

Since  I  last  had  a  peep  at  your  sconce. " 
"Why,  my   lord,"  replied   Ben,   "it  with 

truth  may  be  said, 
While   a  bald  pate   I   long  have  stood 

under, 
There  have  so  many  captains  walked  over 

my  head, 

That  to  see  me  quite  scalp'd  't  were  no 
wonder." 

THOMAS  DIBDIN,  1771-1814. 


MR.  McKENZlE  ON  THE  TARIFF 
COMMISSION. 

f  Among  the  humorists  at  the  bar  and  in  public  life, 
for  which  Kentucky  hag  become  notable,  James  A. 
McKenzin,  Bepr«s*ntativ«  in  Congress  from  1877  to 
1883,  from  the  Second  District,  is  to  be  reckoned.  Born 
la  Christian  County  in  1840,  Mr.  McKenzie  received  a 
common  school  education,  read  law,  anil  soon  after  being 
admitted  to  the  bar  was  elected  to  the  Kentucky  Legis- 


lature. A  fanner  by  occupation,  rather  than  a  poli- 
tician, he  has  declined  again  to  be  a  candidate  h-r 
Congress,  although  his  few  speeches  in  that  body 
marked  by  broad  humor,  argumentative  force,  and 
great  powers  of  satire,  have  given  him  much  reputation, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  has  been  one  of  the  most 
modest  and  unobtrusive  members  of  the  House.] 

[Extract  from  Mr.  McKenzie's  speech 
on  the  proposed  Tariff  Commission,  in  the 
House  of  Representatives,  April  20th, 
1882.] 

ME.  CHAIRMAN,  it  is  possible  to  appre- 
ciate, but  it  is  not  possible  to  express  the 
embarrassment  under  which  I  labor  on 
this  occasion.  At  the  close  of  the  debate, 
and  after  so  many  exhaustive  speeches 
upon  the  subject,  I  do  not  expect  to  say 
anything  either  new  or  novel.  The  ground 
has  been  thoroughly  trodden  over.  The 
reapers  of  Boaz  have  so  thoroughly  gather- 
ed and  garnered  the  field  that  there  is 
nothing  left  behind  them  for  a  modest  and 
unpretentious  Ruth  like  my  self  to  glean.  I 
am,  then,  only  going  to  indulge  perhaps 
in  some  of  the  hackneyed  phrases  which 
have  been  worn  threadbare  in  this  dis- 
cussion. I  do  not  think  the  facts  can  be 
too  often  stated,  I  do  not  think  that  even 
the  scrolls  of  the  heavens  could  contain 
the  enormities,  the  outrages,  and  absurd 
iniquities  of  this  tariff  system. 

This  tariff  discussion  has  been  con- 
ducted at  such  great  length  that  I  doubt 
not  the  outside  world  is  beginning  to  con- 
clude that  Congressmen  "  think  they  are 
under  a  sacramental  obligation  to  exhaust 
every  subject  with  a  prolixity  which 
scorns  consideration  of  the  preciousness  of 
time  and  brevity  of  human  life."  Yet, 
notwithstanding  the  great  length  to 
which  this  discussion  has  been  extended, 
I  shall  ask  the  indulgence  of  the  com- 
mittee while  I  state  as  briefly  as  possible 
some  of  my  objections  to  the  bill,  and 
discuss  in  a  general  way  the  subject  to 
which  it  relates. 

I  pause  here  and  ask  any  friend  of  this 
bill,  any  friend  of  protection,  any  friend 
of  the  existing  tariff,  if  in  any  of  the 
papers  on  file  in  this  House  the  name  of 
a  single  farmer  appears  as  demanding  or 
urging  the  passage  of  the  bill.  We  have 
without  number  the  petitions  of  the 
manufacturing  interests  of  every  section 
signed,  I  doubt  not,  by  their  own  em- 
ployees, whose  bread  and  meat  and  the 
shelter  over  the  heads  of  whose  families 
depend  upon  the  dictum  of  their  em- 


MR.  McKENZIE  ON  THE  TARIFF  COMMISSION. 


281 


^loyers.  I  have  no  doubt  we  have  cart- 
xoads  of  such  petitions  on  file  here ;  but 
I  ask  gentlemen  who  are  pleading  for  the 
passage  of  the  bill  to  answer  if  the  name 
of  a  single  producer  of  the  great  cereals  of 
America  is  on  file  in  favor  of  its  passage  ? 

Railroads,  doubtless,  petition  for  it ; 
banks  petition  for  it ;  the  cotton  manufac- 
turers petition  for  it ;  the  spinners  of  wool 
petition  for  it ;  manufacturers  of  Bessemer 
steel  petition  for  it ;  the  manufacturers  of 
iron  petition  for  it ;  and  I  ask  you,  gentle- 
men on  the  other  side,  who  are  presumed 
to  be  the  especial  champions  of  this  bill, 
if  in  all  the  annals  of  the  literature  of 
petition  on  this  subject  the  name  of  a 
single  American  farmer  appears?  They 
are  satisfied  that  they  have  been  made  for 
years  the  victims  of  this  odious  system  of 
protection  ;  and  every  paper  on  file  asking 
for  relief  to  the  muscle  that  toils  in  the 
corn  and  tobacco  fields  of  this  great 
country  asks  for  relief  from  the  invidious, 
prescriptive,  infamous  system  that  dis- 
criminates against  their  labor  and  in  favor 
of  the  capital  and  the  protected  industries 
of  the  land.  There  is  not  much  poetry  in 
this  sort  of  statement,  gentlemen,  but  it  is 
God's  eternal  truth. 

I  now  come  to  the  consideration  of  a 
question  which  I  approach  with  many 
misgivings.  I  do  not  want  to  say  any- 
thing unkind  ;  it  is  not  in  my  nature.  I 
have  served  here  a  long  time,  and  I  ap- 
peal to  gentlemen  on  both  sides  of  the 
House  if  I  have  not  been  uniformly 
courteous  and  considerate  of  their  feelings. 
But  I  am  going  to  discuss  a  question 
which  has  somewhat  of  personality  in  it. 
I  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  deal  with  it  with 
that  degree  of  deftness  which  will  leave 
no  sting  behind.  I  come  to  contemplate 
the  Committee  on  Ways  and  Means,  and 
I  pause  in  order  to  allow  the  average  Con- 
gressional mind  to  grasp  the  vastness  of 
this  subject. 

Now  I  desire  to  ask  why  has  not  the 
Committee  on  Ways  and  Means,  that 
mighty  body  which  is  the  arbiter  eleganti- 
arum  of  this  House,  and  which  controls 
absolutely  its  economic  destinies,  why  has 
not  this  committee  revised  the  tariff?  Is 
it  possible  that  they  are  willing  to  confess 
in  the  face  of  Heaven  and  men  that  they 
are  incapable  of  grappling  with  the  grand 
questions  which  are  referred  to  them  by 
this  House?  I  am  not  disposed,  gentle- 
men, to  entertain  as  poor  an  opinion  of 


that  committee  as  they  seem  by  their 
acts  to  entertain  of  themselves,  and,  God 
knowst  modesty  is  not  the  weakness  of  the 
average  American  Congressman. 

If  I  were  to  refer  to  the  Congressional 
Directory,  the  finest  repository  of  sup- 
pressed vanity  that  God  Almighty  ever 
permitted,  I  could  satisfy  you  that  divine 
wisdom  never  permitted  a  book  to  emanate 
from  the  American  press,  which  contained 
as  much  modest  assumption.  Suppose  I 
were  to  entertain  the  House  upon  the 
theory  that  this  bill  is  a  confession  of 
weakness,  that  it  is  a  confession  that  the 
Committee  on  Ways  and  Means  of  this 
House  are  not  equal,  intellectually,  to  the 
great  task  of  grappling  with  the  subject  of 
the  tariif,  and  I  submit  to  every  member 
upon  this  floor,  in  common  fairness  and 
justice,  if  the  bill  does  not  show  that  to  be 
the  fact?  Suppose,  following  out  that 
idea,  I  were  to  refer  to  the  biographical 
sketches  so  kindly  furnished  to  Mr.  Ben. 
Perley  Poore  by  these  gentlemen  them- 
selves ;  suppose  I  were  to  trace  out  the 
intellectual  estimates  placed  upon  them- 
selves by  these  gentlemen — and  I  pre- 
sume they  wrote  the  biographies  them- 
selves. But  I  will  riot  do  it,  because  I 
have  not  now  time.  Still  I  invite  the 
attention  of  the  House  and  the  country  to 
the  modest,  shrinking,  girlish  estimate 
placed  upon  themselves  by  these  God- 
fearing men. 

I  had  begun  to  think,  Mr.  Chairman, 
that  I  had  manifested  a  spirit  of  modesty 
myself,  a  sort  of  shrinking  nature  upon 
the  floor  of  the  House ;  but  when  I  came 
to  read  these  sketches  by  the  members  of 
the  Committee  on  Ways  and  Means  pub- 
lished in  the  Congressional  Directory,  I 
felt  that  I  had  been  bold,  self-assuming, 
and  presumptuous,  and  was  no  longer  en- 
titled to  believe  myself  a  modest  man.  I 
invite  attention  to  them ;  no  more  in- 
teresting reading  exists  in  the  annals  of 
literature  since  the  Canterbury  Tales  were 
written.  Look  at  the  ages  of  these  men. 
They  are  no  spring  chickens.  They  are 
about  as  thoroughly  matured  a  set  of  in- 
dividuals as  I  have  ever  encountered  in 
this  House.  I  thought  I  had  the  whole 
matter  before  me  here,  unless  some  of 
them  have  been  too  modest  to  insert  it  in 
the  Record;  but  I  will  not  take  up  the 
time  of  the  committee  now  by  reading 
them ;  still,  if  gentlemen  choose  to  look 
they  will  find  here  about  as  interesting 


282 


MR.  McKENZIE  ON  THE  TARIFF  COMMISSION. 


reading  as  they  ever  came  across,  and 
they  will  see  that  the  compiler  of  this 
Directory  has  succeeded  in  getting  their 
ages,  I  suppose  after  the  fashion  of  the 
census  officers,  who,  when  they  found  an 
old  maid  who  declined  to  give  her  age, 
declared  that  they  would  set  her  down  at 
eighty  years,  by  which  they  generally 
managed  to  get  a  response. 

As  the  Representative  of  180,000  people 
on  this  floor,  I  demand  of  these  gentlemen 
who  support  this  bill  that  they  inform  this 
House  what  necessity  exists  for  making 
the  Executive  the  autocrat  of  the  legisla- 
tive department?  We  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  experience  in  this  commission 
business.  In  the  Forty-fourth  Congress 
we  created  a  commission  that  did  not 
turn  out  in  a  very  satisfactory  sort  of  way. 
It  succeeded  in  foisting  upon  the  Ameri- 
can people  as  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  a  man  who  had  as  much  moral 
right  to  the  office  as  I  have  to  a  quarter 
section  of  land  in  the  moon;  and  by  the 
way,  it  was  an  administration  that  will  go 
down  in  history  remarkable  for  but  two 
things,  weak  vetoes  and  cold  water  at  state 
dinners.  I  will  ask  the  untamed  patriots 
on  the  Republican  side  of  the  House  what 
is  the  necessity  of  placing  in  the  hands  of 
an  accidental  President  the  power  to 
create  the  commission  ?  Why  not  create 
it  ourselves  ?  Have  you  no  confidence  in 
your  fellow-members?  I  have,  on  this 
side  of  the  aisle. 

Will  not  your  constituents,  and  I  use 
the  pronoun  "  your  "  when  I  refer  to  the 
members  who  will  vote  for  this  enormity — 
will  not  your  constituents  say  to  you  when 
you  shall  have  enacted  this  bill  into  law 
by  your  votes,  that  you  have  confessed 
your  weakness,  confessed  your  inability  to 
deal  with  the  great  economic  questions 
presented  for  your  consideration  ?  Will 
they  not  say  you  have  degraded  the  legis- 
lative department  of  the  government  by 
avoiding  the  duties  which  they  impose 
upon  you? 

Do  you  intend  to  adopt  it  upon  the  idea 
that  these  people  know  immeasurably 
more  about  the  true  theory  of  revenue 
and  protection  than  we  do?  An  angel 
direct  from  Heaven  could  not  make  a 
revelation  in  regard  to  the  general  litera- 
ture of  protection  that  would  illuminate 
gome  members  on  that  side  of  the  House. 
Are  you  going  to  admit  the  conclusions  of 
these  people ;  are  you  going  to  admit  that 


their  conclusions  are  wiser  than  any 
that  could  possibly  be  arrived  at  by  the 
nearly  four  hundred  representatives  sent 
here  by  the  people  to  look  after  their 
interests?  Whence  their  superiority? 
They  ought  to  go  home  and  run  for  Co'n- 
gress.  If  these  people  are  so  much  our 
intellectual  and  moral  superiors,  if  they 
are  able  to  deal  with  these  questions, 
divesting  themselves  of  all  partisan  pre- 
judices, if  they  are  able  to  deal  with  them 
in  a  spirit  of  fairness,  justice,  and  liberality 
toward  every  section,  then  why  in  the 
name  of  all  that  is  wonderful  do  not  the 
American  people  recognize  their  superior 
abilities  and  send  them  here  to  Congress 
in  place  of  this  Committee  on  Ways  and 
Means,  that  solemnly  and  gravely  admits, 
in  the  face  of  God  and  man  that  they 
have  not  the  ability  to  tackle  this  ques- 
tion ?  I  feel  sorry  for  that  committee ;  I 
think  of  it  in  the  night-watches.  It  excites 
the  commiseration  of  a  heart  naturally 
tender,  when  I  awake  at  night  and  think 
that  the  American  people  are  here  through 
their  representatives  with  a  Committee  on 
Ways  and  Means  that  comes  before  the 
House  and  blubberingly  says,  "  We  can- 
not tackle  this  thing  ourselves,  but  we 
have  got  a  gang  of  fellows  outside  that  are 
able  to  do  it  at  $10  per  day  and  found." 

I  want  to  ask  you  another  question  on 
the  subject  of  Iron  (and  that  is  where  the 
iron  enters  into  my  soul) ;  on  the  subject 
of  iron  will  the  consumers  or  manu- 
facturers be  heard  or  heeded  before  this 
august  tribunal  of  nine?  On  the  subject 
of  woolen  goods  will  the  ragged  and 
suffering  poor  that  pay  the  enormous  duty 
on  the  wool  and  the  manufactured  products 
that  constitute  their  miserable  squalid 
covering  have  an  audience  ?  Will  ear  be 
given  to  the  plaints  of  the  lowly,  the 
stricken,  the  oppressed,  and  an  effort  made 
to  relieve  their  grievances  ?  Or  will  these 
doctrinaires  be  wined  and  dined  by  the 
manufacturing  and  protected  interests, 
and  listen  to  appeals  whereby  the  thumb- 
screws of  taxation  and  protection  can  be 
so  applied  as  to  wring  an  additional  penny 
from  the  unwilling  hand  of  penury  and 
want  ?  Will  the  shivering,  ague-stricken 
people  of  our  malarial  bottoms  be  listened 
to  in  their  cry  for  untaxed  medicinal 
herbs,  or  will  the  quinine  kings  of  Phila- 
delphia and  New  York  be  heard  in 
their  efforts  to  restore  a  tax  on  quinine 
which,  if  ever  enacted,  should  be  styled 


A  CONSCIENTIOUS  EPITAPH. 


283 


"An  act   for  the  promotion  of  malarial 
fever?" 

These  are  questions,  as  Lord  Byron 
said,  at  once  answerless  and  yet  incessant ; 
they  appeal  to  our  sense  of  justice  and  to 
all  the  finer,  higher,  and  nobler  instincts 
and  impulses  of  our  better  natures. 

Little  as  you  may  think  it,  gentlemen, 
Republicans  are  not  wholly  depraved.  I  say 
this  in  the  interest  of  humanity,  I  say  this 
for  the  general  credit  of  our  common 
country.  It  is  an  admission  not  extorted 
from  me,  but  voluntarily  made  because  I 
realize  it,  and  I  ask  them,  notwithstanding 
the  great  burden  of  sin  and  iniquity  that 
hangs  upon  them  like  a  cloud,  and  not- 
withstanding the  great  dust  and  smoke 
that  obscure  the  few  good  actions  they 
have  done,  I  ask  them  in  the  name  of  the 
shivering  people  of  our  malarial  bottoms, 
I  ask  them  in  the  interest  of  the  half- 
starved  and  half-naked  people  of  the 
whole  country,  if  they  are  willing  to 
perpetuate  a  system  of  mere  party  supre- 
macy that  works  so  great  ill  and  injustice 
to  that  class  of  our  people  that  needs  the 
protection  of  your  laws. 

Pay  attention  to  this.  Here  is  an  in- 
congruity which  possibly  has  not  occurred 
to  the  occult  mind  of  the  average  tariff 
investigator.  I  invite  the  attention  of 
both  sides  to  one  of  the  greatest  economic 
curiosities  presented  in  this  great  national 
museum  which  we  have  been  for  two 
weeks  parading  before  the  American 
people.  Under  the  general  law  now  in 
force  on  the  subject,  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
printed  in  our  mother-tongue,  are  for- 
bidden to  enter  the  ports  of  the  country 
without  the  payment  of  a  duty,  and  yet 
during  the  last  Congress  the  Committee 
on  Ways  and  Means — this  committee  for 
which  I  have  such  unbounded  respect, 
and  which  in  the  face  of  their  protestation 
I  have  endeavored  to  defend — through 
their  agent,  Mr.  Tucker,  of  Virginia,  re- 
ported, and  this  House  passed  a  bill  to 
place  Bibles  printed  in  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage upon  the  free  list. 

Now,  think  of  this ;  it  will  grow  on  you 
the  more  you  think  about  it.  Thus  while 
we  are  enacting  a  law  to  prohibit  the 
Chinamen  from  coming  to  this  country, 
we  are  at  the  same  time  legislating  to  give 
Chinese  Bibles  an  advantage  over  King 
James's  version  and  the  new  transla- 
tion. 

Mr.  Chairman,  with  all  your  sense  of 


fairness,  which  I  am  quite  ready  to  con- 
cede, I  appeal  to  you  as  the  organ  of  this 
committee,  if  a  more  laughable  absurdity, 
incongruity,  and  injustice  in  the  interest 
of  morals,  and  the  reformation  of  the 
American  people  ever  was  presented  than 
the  fact  that  after  we  prevent  the  China- 
man through  the  aid  of  my  friend  from 
California  [Mr.  Page]  and  his  confreres 
from  coming  to  this  country,  we  admit 
the  Bible  printed  in  his  language,  which 
no  man  born  of  American  parentage  ever 
did  or  ever  will  understand,  at  the  same 
time  imposing  a  duty  of  twenty-five  per 
cent,  on  King  James's  translation,  which 
has  sent  all  our  ancestors  to  Heaven. 

God  knows  if  ever  there  was  a  time  in 
the  history  of  the  American  people  when 
free  Bibles  were  needed  it  is  to-day.  Just 
look  on  that  side  of  the  House.  I  ask  any 
moral  reformer,  I  appeal  to  Moody  and 
Sankey,  I  appeal  to  all  the  evangelists 
now  living,  in  the  name  of  mercy  to  come 
and  exercise  their  best  endeavors  just  be- 
yond that  aisle.  I  am  willing  for  the 
attempt  to  be  made  to  convert  these  bold, 
bad  people,  notwithstanding  I  realize  the 
fact  that  it  will  be  an  enormous  strain 
upon  the  general  plan  of  salvation. 


A  CONSCIENTIOUS  EPITAPH. 

How  beautiful,  how  noble  is  the  poet's 
art  when  used  to  sooth  the  mourning 
heart !  One  of  the  sweetest  and  tenderest 
specimens  of  elegiac  verse  has  been  com- 
posed by  an  English  gentleman  who  ac- 
cidentally got  the  remains  of  four  wives 
somewhat  mixed  during  their  removal  to 
a  new  burial  ground.  He  was  deter- 
mined, was  Mr.  Sparks,  that  there  should 
be  no  mistake  as  to  the  various  Mrs. 
Sparkses'  last  abode;  and  accordingly 
calmed  his  wounded  spirit  and  displayed 
strict  truthfulness  by  the  composition 
of  the  following  beautiful  inscription: 
"  Here  lies  Jane  (and  probably  part  of 
Susan)  Sparks."  "Sacred  to  the  memory 
of  Maria  (to  say  nothing  of  Jane  and 
Hannah)  Sparks." 

"  Stranger,  pause  and  drop  a  tear. 
For  Susan  Sparks  lies  buried  here  ; 
Mingled  in  some  perplexing  manner, 
With  Jane,  Maria  and  portions  of  Han- 
nah." 


£84 


INFLEXIBILITY;  OR  HOW  SOME  WOMEN  MANAGE. 


INFLEXIBILITY  ;    OR  HOW    SOME 
WOMEN  MANAGE.1 

A  DRAMATIC  SKETCH. 

SCENE  :  Berkeley  Sguare.  Lady  Mary 
Leslie's  Boudoir. 

PERSONS:  LADY  MARY  and  THE 
HONORABLE  MRS.  LESLIE. 

Mrs.  Leslie.  I'll  not  go ;  that's  positive- 
sure.  Lady  Mary,  you  won't  let  Mr.  Leslie 
drag  you  down  to  that  horrible  old  place ; 
just  to  humour  the  unreasonable  whims 
of  our  honoured  papa  and  mamma-in-law, 
by  keeping  Christmas  with  them,  and  the 
bats  and  owls,  and  old  family  portraits, 
(monsters  !  how  I  hate  the  sight  of  them !) 
instead  of  joining  the  select  of  Beau- 
Vallon,  where  you  know  we  have  half 
engaged  ourselves  to  take  part  in  the 
private  theatricals,  and  half  promised  for 
our  sposi. 

Lady  Mary.  Yes ;  without  their  know- 
ing anything  of  the  matter,  poor  dear 
souls ! 

Mrs.  Leslie.  That  does  not  signify. 
I've  told  Colonel  Leslie,  he  must  put  off 
the  old  people ;  and  he  must  go  with  me 
to  Beau-Vallon  ;  so  that  point's  settled ; — 
you  have  only  to  be  as  determined  with 
his  brother,  and  when  we  once  get  them 
down,  they  can't  refuse  to  take  the 
characters  cast  for  them.  Mr.  Leslie  will 
make  a  capital  Jaffier,  and  my  'honest 
man '  (he  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  Lord 
G.),  will  do  well  enough  for  one  of  the 
Senators. 

Lady  Mary.  Upon  my  word,  you've 
arranged  it  all  admirably,  ma  petite  soaur ! 
But  has  Colonel  Leslie  actually  given  up 
the  point  of  going  down  to  Hendon 
Castle ! 

Mrs.  Leslie.  Oh,  as  good  as  given  it 
up !  though  not  without  some  prosing, 
about  duty  and  affection,  and  Lord  and 
Lady  Hendon's  disappointment,  and  old 
family  customs,  and  all  that.  But  he 
knows  it's  no  use  to  persevere,  when  I'm 
determined. — I  wish  you  had  half  my 
spirit. 

Lady  Mary.  Perhaps  it  would  not 
succeed  quite  so  well  with  my  '  Giove 


1  From  the  Literary  Souvenir,  1829. 


Omnipotente/  as  a  certain  degree  of  deli- 
cate management,  which  stands  me  in 
good  stead,  par  fois.  A  besieged  fortress 
is  not  always  taken  by  storm,  you  know. 
There  are  such  ways  and  means  as  sap- 
ping and  mining. 

Mrs.  Leslie.  Why,  you've  been  study- 
ing Vauban  1  But  just  as  you  please  ; 
manage  it  your  own  way ;  only — manage  it. 

Lady  Mary.  That  is  precisely  what  I 
mean  to  do ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  (& 
1'oreille),  my  theatrical  wardrobe  is  al- 
ready packed  up. 

Mrs.  Leslie.  Well  done,  conjugal  sub- 
mission! Mine  is  not  yet  ordered;  but 
I'll  not  lose  a  minute,  and  I  shall  take 
down  a  senator's  dress  for  Colonel  Leslie  ; 
you'd  better  settle  about  Jaffier's.  Au 
revoir.  [Exit. 

Lady  Mary.  Au  revoir,  ma  petite 
sceur  1  Every  one  works  in  her  own  way. 

Enter  the  Honourable  Mr.  Leslie,  in  great 
indignation. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Upon  my  soul,  it's  too  bad  ! 
My  brother's  a  fool! — an  absolute  fool. 
By  heaven !  if  I  had  such  a  wife — Lady 
Mary  !  of  course,  your  arrangements  are 
all  made  for  Sunday.  I  won't  start  a 
minute  later  than  ten  o'clock,  remember 
— you  know  we  must  be  at  Hendon  at 
half-past  five  the  next  day, — for  I  make  it 
a  point,  never  to  infringe  on  any  of  Lord 
Hendon's  good  old-fashioned  rules  and 
customs,  and  he  keeps  to  his  six  o'clock 
dinner  hour. 

Lady  Mary.  Rather  horrid,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  you  know  I  have  no  will  but  yours, 
love !  I  suppose,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Leslie 
will  be  equally  punctual  ? 

Mr.  Leslie.  Colonel  Leslie  's  a  fool,  and 
his  wife. — My  brother  really  makes  him- 
self too  contemptible.  That  virago  of  a 
woman  leads  him  like  a  puppy-dog  in  a 
string.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  they  are 
actually  sending  down  excuses  to  Lord 
and  Lady  Hendon,  and  are  going  to 
Beau-Vallon  I 

Lady  Mary.  '  Est  il  possible  ?'  What 
can  have  induced  them  to  change  their 
plans  so  suddenly  ? 

Mr.  Leslie.  Devil  take  me,  if  I  believe 
Mrs.  Leslie  ever  intended  to  go  to  Hen- 
don :  and  for  my  brother — his  weakness 
s  inconceivable  ! — pitiable  ! — absolutely 
pititable  !  A  woman's  cat's-paw ! — no- 
.hing  better,  upon  my  soul !  Really,  Lady 


INFLEXIBILITY ;  OR  HOW  SOME  WOMEN  MANAGE. 


285 


Mary,  it  would  be  but  charitable  in  you, 
to  give  that  coniounded  wife  of  his  a  few 
hints  on  conjuga]  duty.  I  must  say,  you 
set  her  a  very  different  example. 

Lady  Mary.  Poor  thing ! — one  must 
make  allowance.  Perhaps,  if  Colonel 
Leslie  was  more  like  you,  love ! — But 
Mrs.  Leslie  and  I  have  drawn  very  differ- 
ent lots. 

Mr.  Leslie.  My  dear  Lady  Mary,  I 
know  you  would  feel  the  impropriety  of 
such  conduct,  exactly  as  I  feel  it.  So 
very  improper — so  inconsistent — so  tri- 
fling— so  ill-bred — so  disrespectful  to  Lord 
and  Lady  Hendon,  and  their  party  !  And 
there  were  particular  reasons,  very  im- 
portant reasons,  for  Lord  Hendon 's  wish- 
ing us  all  to  be  down  there  this  Christmas 
— I  would  not  absent  myself  for  the  uni- 
verse. It's  not  a  mere  Christmas  party. 
Some  of  the  most  leading  men  of  the 
kingdom  will  be  there ! — and  private 
arrangements,  involving  the  most  im- 
portant results,  may  be  entered  into. 
That  is,  we  may  form — you  understand 
me. 

Lady  Mary.  Indeed !  but  you  know, 
my  dear  Mr.  Leslie,  I  make  it  a  rule  never 
to"  pry  into  state  secrets ;  who  shall  we 
meet,  though? 

Mr.  Leslie.  The  Duke  of  Dundee,  Lord 
Wigblock,  Lord  Archibald  McWigion, 
and  Lord  Paul  Pop  (the  Duchess,  and 
Lady  Wigblock,  of  course) ;  and  then — 
you'd  never  guess — you'll  be  astonished  ! 
— we're  to  be  joined  by — (the  thing's  a 
profound  secret,  remember) — by — (quite 
unexpectedly,  you  understand) — by — who 
do  you  think  ? 

Lady  Mary.  O,  I  am  such  a  simpleton 
at  guessing  political  riddles.  By — by — 

Mr.  Leslie.  Let  me  whisper  it  in  your 
ear — by  Mr.  Secretary  Humbug ! ! ! 

Lady  Mary.    '  Est  il  possible '  ?  * 


J  I  know  but  one  instance,  in  which  King  James  II. 
made  a  reply  of  wit  and  humour.  After  King  William 
had  landed,  it  was  announced  to  James  II. :  "  Sire,  such 
a  great  lord  has  left  you,  and  gone  over  to  King  Wil- 
liam." Prince  George,  of  Denmark,  exclaimed,  "  estll 
possible  ?"  Again  it  was  announced  to  James,  that  an- 
other great  lord  had  gone  over  to  William ;  "  est  il 
possible?  "again  exclaimed  Prince  George,  and  so  he 
did  always — exclaiming,  "  est  il  possible  ?  "  upon  every 
new  defection.  At  list,  Prince  George  himself  went 
OTer  to  William ;  and  when  his  defection  was  announced 
to  James  II.,  "  What,  said  the  King, '  is  'eat  il  possible' 
gone  too  ?"— See  Bridgewater  Papers. 


Mr.  Leslie.  All  an  arranged  thing  I 
Understood  on  both  sides ;  though,  till 
the  meeting  has  actually  taken  place,  we 
observe  the  most  profound  secrecy.  Such 
measures  in  agitation — such  a  coalition ! 
and  my  brother  to  absent  himself  at  so 
momentous  a  crisis !  A  man  must  have 
very  little  patriotic  feeling;  very  little 
sense  of  his  duty  as  an  Englishman,  and 
his  dignity  as  a  man,  to  suffer  himself  to 
be  so  wound  about  a  woman's  finger. 
And  I  more  than  half  suspect,  Mrs.  Les- 
lie will  drag  him  down  to  Beau-Vallon, 
where  they  say  the  Carberrys  are  getting 
up  private  theatricals,  or  some  such  non- 
sense. 

Lady  Mary.  Ah !  that  reminds  me,  by 
the  by — I'd  forgotten  to  tell  you — we've 
had  an  invitation,  too ;  and  to  take  part 
in  the  theatricals ;  and  they  wanted  you 
to  accept — How  luckily  you  have  men- 
tioned it — I  must  write  our  excuses 
directly. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Me ! — I  accept ! — what  did 
you  say  ? — I  take  part  in  their  confounded 
mummery !  By  heavens,  that's  too  good  I 
— when  the  vital  interests  of  the  country 
are  at  stake,  and  my  mind  absorbed  in — 
My  brother  may  do  as  he  pleases, — play 
Jerry  Sneak,  if  he  likes  it. 

Lady  Mary.  Oh  I  Colonel  Leslie  is  to 
take  the  part  of  a  senator,  for  the  play 
will  be  '  Venice  Preserved.' 

Mr.  Leslie.  Devilish  good  that! — a 
senator,  by  the  nonce !  His  Gandersfield 
constituents  will  find  him  a  rare  senator  I 
— a  zealous  representative. — When  I  took 
my  seat  for  Cackletown 

Lady  Mary.  Shall  you  bring  in  the 
Cackletown  Inclosure  Bill  next  session  ? 

Mr.  Leslie.  My  dear  Lady  Mary  I 
though  I  know  your  discretion ;  yet,  on 
these  subjects — you  understand  me — one 
can't  be  too  cautious — too  scrupulous. 

Lady  Mary.  Oh  1 1  would  not,  for  the 
world,  intrude  on  your  confidence.  I 
spoke  heedlessly ;  for  the  fact  is,  I  really 
hardly  thought  of  what  I  was  saying,  for 
— [looking  at  Mr.  Leslie  with  great  anxi- 
ety].— Are  you  quite  well  to-day,  my 
dear  Mr.  Leslie? 

Mr.  Leslie.  Yes ;  quite  well — I  think. 
At  least,  I — Bmt  why  do  you  ask,  eh  ? 

Lady  Mary.  Oh !  nothing — I  only 
fancied ;  to  own  the  truth,  I've  been  a 
little  anxious  about  you  this  last  day  or 
two.  I  fancied  I  saw  something  about 
your  eyes — your  general  appearance,  in- 


286 


INFLEXIBILITY ;  OR  HOW  SOME  WOMEN  MANAGE. 


dicativeof  a  return  of  those  horrid  spasms, 
that— but,  thank  God,  I  must  be  mistaken, 
as  you  feel  so  perfectly  well. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Why,  to  say  the  truth,  now 
I  think  of  it,  I'm  not,  exactly ;  I  have  had 
some  old  feelings  of  late — [walks  to  the 

e'a^s] — I  certainly  look  very  unwell. — 
ev'lish  unlucky,  just  as  we're  off  for 
Hendon ! 

Lady  Mary.  Why,  as  to  that,  if  an 
attack  should  come  on,  you  know  we  could 
send  off  express,  and  Sir  Henry  Halford 
might  be  with  us  in  three  days. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Three  days,  Lady  Mary ! — 
why,  I  might  be  dead  in  three  hours! 
You're  vastly  considerate — vastly  kind. — 
I'm  infinitely  obliged  to  you. 

Lady  Mary.  Nay,  my  dear  Mr.  Leslie ! 
God  knows,  if  I  only  consulted  my  own 
feelings, — but,  alas !  I  know  too  well  what 
yours  are;  and  that  you  will  run  all 
risks,  rather  than  break  engagements  so 
important  as 

Mr.  Leslie.  Why,  my  love,  they  are,  to 
be  sure,  of  the  last  importance ;  but  when 
one's  life  is  at  stake,  there  is  a  paramount 
duty  which  a  man  owes  to  himself,  and  to 
those  tenderly  interested  for  him.  And, 
when  I  think  of  our  darling  boy,  and  of 
yourself,  my  dear  Lady  Mary,  I — [Mr. 
Leslie  takes  out  his  pocket  handkerchief, 
Lady  Mary  applies  hers  to  her  eyes]. — 
However,  don't  distress  yourself,  my  love ! 
I  do  not  feel  very  ill ;  and  I  hope  there  is 
no  great  danger  of  an  immediate  attack. 
It  is  of  the  utmost  importance,  that  I 
should  meet  the  party  at  Hendon. 

Lady  Mary.  And  I  am  sure  I  would 
not,  for  the  whole  world,  attempt  to  in- 
fluence you  in  a  matter  of  such  moment, 
—yet, 

Mr.  Leslie.  [Smiling,  and  pulling  up 
his  neckcloth,  with  conscious  importance] . 
No,  my  love,  you  know  any  attempt  to 
influence  me  on  any  point  would  be  too 
absurd — perfectly  ridiculous.  But  what 
were  you  about  to  add  ? 

Lady  Mary.  Oh  !  nothing  of  any  con- 
sequence ;  only  I  was  just  going  to  observe, 
that  if  anything  could  have  reconciled  me 
to  give  up  Hendon,  and  accept  the  Car- 
berrys'  invitation,  it  would  have  been, 
that  their  place  is  so  near  town  we  could 
have  had  Sir  Henry  down  in  a  few  hours, 

in  case  of but  I  really  think  there  is 

no  danger.  By  the  by,  I  do  wish,  though, 
their  theatricals  had  been  put  off  till  our 
return;  you  would  have  made  such  a 
capital  J  uilier. 


Mr.  Leslie.  Oh!  they'll  find  Jaffiers 
enough  without  me ;  and  besides,  really 
with  a  mind  so  absorbed  as  mine  is  at 
present,  in  matters  that  concern  the  vital 
interest  of  nations— I  wonder  who  they'll 
get  to  do  Jaffier  ? 

Lady  Mary.  Why,  I  heard,  that  in 
case  you  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  take 
the  part,  it  was  to  be  offered  to  Harry 
Dormer ;  he's  rather  a  favourite  of  Lady 
Carberry's,  you  know. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Harry  Dormer !  a  rare  Jaf- 
fier he'll  make.  I  wish  them  joy, — I  can't 
think  what  the  devil  the  women  see  in 
that  fellow,  to  make  such  a  fuss  about.  As 
for  Lady  Carberry's  taste !  entre  nous,  her 
Ladyship  was  never  much  to  my  taste. 
Harry  Dormer  act  Jaffier ! — I  could  have 
shown  them  how  it  ought  to  be  acted ; 
but,  thank  God  !  I  shall  be  very  differently 
occupied  at  Hendon. 

Lady  Mary.  By  the  by,  my  dear  Mr. 
Leslie,  do  be  cautious  about  your  diet, 
while  we  are  there.  Do  you  know,  they 
say  that  since  Lord  Hendon  parted  with 
Petitjean  he  has  picked  up  some  English 
empoisonneur,  who  sends  up  the  most 
atrocious  inventions ! 

Mr.  Leslie.  Parted  with  Petitjean — 
Lord  Hendon  parted  with  Petitjean! — 
you're  not  serious,  Lady  Mary. 

Lady  Mary.  Why,  didn't  you  know  it, 
love?  I'm  astonished! — about  a  paltry 
hundred  a  year,  that  poor  Petitjean  asked, 
in  addition  to  his  very  moderate  salary. 
He  only  stipulated  for  that,  and  to  be  al- 
lowed French  wines  at  his  table ;  (how 
could  Lord  Hendon  expect  him  to  set  his 
throat  on  fire  with  port  and  sherry!)  and 
yet  his  very  reasonable  demands  were  re- 
fused. So  the  invaluable  creature  was  suf- 
fered to  depart,  and  the  Carberrys  secured 
him  instantly,  on  his  own  terms. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Lord  Hendon's  mad — actu- 
ally insane  I  Better  to  have  cut  off  his 
right-hand  than  parted  with  Petitjean — 
who  the  devil  will  eat  his  dinners  now  ? 
There's  not  a  man  in  England,  besides 
Petitjean,  who  can  send  up  a  salmi  or  a 
vol  au  vent, — Lord  Hendon  must  take  the 
consequences.  If  the  Duke  and  Lord 
Wigblock  hear  this,  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised, if and  who  could  blame  them  ? 

Carberry's  a  lucky  man  ! 

Lady  Mary.  Yes  ;  and  really,  every 
thing  at  Beau-Vallon  is  in  the  best  taste, 
du  meillcur  ton.  So  rigidly  exclusive — no 
odd  people  ever  get  in  there ;  and  what- 


APHORISMS  FROM  JObH  BILLINGS. 


Z87 


ever  you  may  say,  my  dear  Mr.  Leslie, 
Lady  Carberry  is  an  enchanting  woman, 
though  rather  too  fastidious.  She  has 
settled,  by  the  by,  that  you  are  the  only 


on  my  account,  my  dear  Lady  Mary — and 
there's  a  certain  duty  a  man  owes  to  him- 
self—and, and  all  that  sort  of  thing — and 
therefore— Do  you  think  the  part  of 


creature  existing  who  can  take  Jnffier.        Jafner  is  open  yet? 

Mr.  Leslie.  Oh  !  there's  Harry  Dormer,  Lady  Mary.  Oh,  I'm  sure  of  it — or  if 
you  know;  ha,  ha,  ha!  Harry  Dormer — ;  it  were  not,  Lady  Carberry  would  not 
why  the  fellow  is  not  five-feet  six  !  i  hesitate  a  moment  to  discard  Harry  Dor- 

Lady  Mary.  And  you  are  just  six  feet !  mer,  and  make  room  for  you.  But  con- 
— that's  what  Lady  Carberry  said — "  such  sider  a  moment,  what  will  Lord  and  Lady 
height,"  said  she,  "such  a  figure  to  set  off  Hendon  say?  what  will  people  think? 


the  dress  ;  et  puts  des  moustaches ;  ah, 
ciel !  "  You  know  how  enthusiastic  she  is. 

Mr.  Leslie.  A  fascinating  creature, 
certainly,  at  times,  and  not  without  con- 
siderable tact;  but,  won't  Harry  Dormer's 
mustachios  do? — ha,  ha,  ha!  they  might 
drop  off,  to  be  sure 

Lady  Mary.  I  hear  he  does  nothing, 
from  morning  to  night,  but  practice  be- 


They  may  fancy  you  are  influenced  by 
me. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Oh,  no !  they  know  me  too 
well — that  would  be  vastly  too  absurd  ; 
but,  when  a  man's  life's  at  stake  (and  I 
really  do  not  feel  well) ;  and  as  my  Lord 
Hendon  pleases  to  forget  what  is  due  to 
his  family  and  friends ;  and — and  then, 

_  _          _  Beau-Vallon  being  near  town ;   that  all 

fore  a  pier  glass;  and  says  you're  just  sixj  things  considered,  you  may  accept  Lady 
inrhes  too  tall  for  the  part.  Carberry's  invitation,  and  I  will  arrange 

Mr.  Leslie.    Good ;  excellent ;   capital  1 1  the  other  matter.     Poor  Dormer !   ha,  ha, 


— he  makes  quite  sure  of  it  then? 

Lady  Mary.  Oh,  yes !  for  when  I  was 
sounded  on  the  subject,  I  gave  no  hope 
whatever  of  our  breaking  the  Hendon 
engagement. 

Mr.  Leslie-  Confound  the  Hendon  en- 
gagement ! — you  might  have  consulted 
me. 

Lady  Mary.  I  never  give  definite  an- 
swers; and  I  hate  a  decisive  tone  in 
women. 

Mr.  Leslie.  My  brother  may  be  led  by 
the  nose,  if  he  pleases  ,  but  I — However, 
my  life !  I  know  your  intention  was  admir- 
able, but  another  time — are  you  sure 
they've  really  got  Petitjean  at  Beau-Val- 
lon? 

Lady  Mary.  Oh,  positive  ! — Lord  and 
Lady  Cormorant  are  just  come  from 
thence,  and  they  rave  about  the  new  chef 
de  cuisine  ;  and  poor  Marchmont,  who  had 
been  down  at  Hendon,  jilant  le  parfait 
amour  with  your  sister,  you  know,  and  is 
really  devotedly  attached  to  her,  told  me 
the  other  day,  he  was  absolutely  obliged 
to  run  up  to  town  to  get  a  decent  feed. 
Such  a  table  at  Hendon  now !  des  in- 
famies— he  swore  he  could  not  stand  it  a 
day  longer. 

Mr.  Leslie.  Nor  will  I  try  the  experi- 
ment, by  all  that's  good.  Lord  Hendon 
must  take  the  consequences ;  for,  in  my 
state  of  health — under  existing  circum- 
stances— taking  everything  into  considera- 
tion— I  know  how  wretched  you  would  be 


ha !  '  six  inches  too  tall';  capital ! — [Exit 
laughing.] 


APHORISMS  FROM  JOSH  BILLINGS. 

THE  hardest  dollar  for  a  man  to  git  is 
too  often  the  one  he  needs  the  most. 

SUCKCESS  is  not  allways  a  sure  sighn  ov 
merit,  but  it  iz  a  fust  rate  way  to  suck- 
ceed. 

YUNG  man  alwuss  pla  to  win — a  game 
that  aint  worth  winning  aint  worth 
playing. 

THE  choicest  kompliment  that  kan  be 

Said  to  virtew  is,  that  the  best  lies  we 
av  are  thoze  whitch  most  resemble  the 
truth. 

Mi  friend,  don't  never  strike  a  dog — 
thare  never  waz  a  dog  yet  who  had  haff  a 
chance,  who  didn't  luv  sumboddy  else 
better  than  he  loved  himself. 

YUNO  man,  don't  git  down  on  yure 
knees  before  the  world — if  yu  do,  it  won't 
be  long  before  the  world  will  insist  upon 
yure  gitting  down  a  peg  lower. 

MEN  ov  moderate  abilitya  make  the 
best  compaayuns — men  ov  grate  wit  may 
be  compared  to  a  grate  fire,  you  kant  git 
near  enuff  to  it  to  git  warm,  without  git- 
ting  burnt. 


288 


AN  EXPERIENCED  SHOPPER. 


NEBUCHADNEZZAR. 

THE    MULE    OF    THAT    NAME. 

You,  Nebuchadnezzah,  whoa,  sah  J 
Whar  is  you  tryin'  to  go,  sah  ? 
I'd  hab  you  for  to  know,  sah' 

Ps  a  holdin'  ob  de  lines. 
You  better  stop  dat  prancin' ; 
You's  pow'ful  fond  of  dancin', 
But  I'll  bet  my  yeah's  advancin' 

Dat  I'll  cure  you  ob  your  shines. 

Look  heah,  mule !     Better  min'  out — 
Fust  t'iug  you  know  you'll  fin'  out 
How  quick  I'll  wear  dis  line  out 

On  your  ugly,  stubbo'n  back. 
You  needn't  try  to  steal  up 
An'  lif '  dat  precious  heel  up ; 
You's  got  to  plow  dis  fiel'  up, 

You  has,  sah,  for  a  fac'. 

Dar,  da? s  de  way  to  do  it ! 
He  s  cornin'  right  down  to  it ; 
Jes'  watch  him  plowin'  t'roo  it  1 

Dis  nigger  ain't  no  fool. 
Some  folks  dey  would  'a'  beat  him } 
Ntfw,  dat  would  only  heat  him — 
1  know  jes'  how  to  treat  him, 

You  urns'  reason  wid  a  mule. 

He  minds  me  like  a  nigger. 
If  he  was  only  bigger 
He'd  fotch  a  mighty  figger, 

He  would,  I  tell  you  I     Yes,  sah ! 
See  how  he  keeps  a  clickin'I 
He's  as  gentle  as  a  chicken, 
An'  nebber  t'inks  o'  kickin' — 

Whoa,  dar!  Nebuchadnezzah  I 


Is  dis  heah  me,  or  not  me  ? 
Or  is  de  debbil  got  me ! 
Was  dat  a  cannon  shot  me? 

Hab  I  laid  heah  mor'n  a  week? 
Dat  mule  do  kick  amazin' ! 
De  beast  was  sp'iled  in  raisin' — 
But  now  I  'spect  he's  grazin' 

On  de  oder  side  de  creek. 

IKWTN  RUSSELL. 


AN  UNFRIENDLY  QUESTION. 

"  Here's  yer  nice  roast  chick'n,"  cried  an 
aged  colored  man,  as  the  cars  stopped  at 
a  Virginia  railway  station.  "  Here's  yer 


roast  chick'n,  'n  taters,  all  nice  and  hot,*'' 
holding  his  plate  aloft  and  walking  the 
platform.  "  Where  did  you  get  that 
chicken,  Uncle?"  asked  a  passenger. 
Uncle  looks  at  the  intruder  sharply,  and 
then  turns  away,  crying,  "  Here's  yer  nice 
roast  chick'n,  gentl'm'n,  all  hot ;  needn't 
go  in  de  house  for  dat.''  "  Where  did 
you  get  that  chicken,"  repeats  the  inqui- 
sitive passenger.  "  Look-a-yer,"  says 
Uncle,  speaking  privately,  "  is  you  from 
theNorf?"  "Yes."  "  Is  you  a  Mend  of 
the  cullud  man  ?'  "  I  hope  I  am."  "  Den 
don't  you  nebber  ask  me  whar  I  got  dat 
chick'n.  Here's  yer  nice  roast  chick'n, 
all  hot." — New  York  Tribune. 


AN  EXPERIENCED  SHOPPER. 

An  old  fellow  who  was  noted  through 
the  town  for  his  stuttering  as  well  as  for 
his  shrewdness  in  making  a  bargain, 
stopped  at  a  grocery  and  inquired : 

How    m-m-many  t-t-t-turkeys    have 
youg-g-got?" 

:<  Eight,sir,"  replied  the  grocer. 

"T-t-t-tough  or  t-t-tender? 

"  Some  are  tender  and  some  tough," 
was  the  reply. 

"I  k-keep  b-b-b-boarders,"  said  the 
new  customer.  P-pick  out  the  four 
t-t-toughest  t-t-turkeys,  if  you  p-p-please." 

The  delighted  grocer  very  willingly 
complied  with  the  unusual  request,  and 
said  in  his  politest  tones: 

"  These  are  the  tough  ones,  sir." 

Upon  which  the  merchant  coolly  put 
his  hand  on  the  remaining  four,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"I'll  t-t-take  th-th-th-these  1" 


STIK  and  hang,  yung  man,  dont  forgit 
that  it  iz  the  last  six  inches  that  wins 
the  race. 

When  the  dog  meets  yu  with  a  wagging 
tale  at  the  threshold,  yu  may  be  sure  ov 
a  kindly  welkum  at  the  fireside  within. 

It  iz  the  way  a  thing  iz  sed  or  done  that 
givs  it  importance.  I  hav  met  people 
who  couldn't  say  "Good-morning1'  with- 
out biteing  off  both  ends  ov  the  sentence, 

JOSH  BILMNOS. 


THE  TURF. 


289 


THE  TURF. 

MB.    JORROCKS   AT   NEWMARKET. 
[Fifty  years  ago,  1835.] 

Among  the  collections  of  books  to  be  found  in  the 
houses  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  England,  none  are 
so  popular  and  frequent  as  the  series  of  sporting 
novels  written  by  Robert  Smith  Surtees,  an  English  bar 
rister  at  law,  who  wrote  about  50  years  ago,  (1832)  and 
subsequently,  illustrated  by  John  Leech. 

John  Joirocks,  a  sporting  grocer,  is  one  of  the  princi 
pal  characters  in  several  of  the  novels,  and  in  "  Handley 
Cross  "  where  he  partially  retires  from  active  business 
and  takes  the  mastership  of  The  Handley  Cross  Fox 
Hounds,  he  "  comes  out "  strongest. 

One  of  his  first  "  trials  "  with  this  (now)  celebrated 
pack,  will  form  the  extract  from  the  novel  of  "  Handley 
Cross,"  but  in  order  to  give  a  better  idea  of  who  Mr. 
Jorrocks  is  we  introduce  him  on  a  visit  to  New  Market 
along  with  his  old  friend's  son,  Charley  'Stubbs,  who 
subsequently  falls  in  love  with  Jorrocks'  niece  and 
heiress,  Belinda.  Some  good  judges  class  Surtees, 
M  the  equal  of  Thackeray  and  Dickens. 

A  "muffin — and  The  Post,  sir,"  said 
George  to  Stubbs  the  Yorkshiremau, — 
on  one  of  the  fine  fresh  mornings,  that 
gently  usher  in  the  returning  spring,  and 
draw  from  the  town-pent  Cits,  sighs  for  the 
verdure  of  the  fields, — as  he  placed  the 
above-mentioned  articles  on  his  usual 
breakfast  table  in  the  coffee-room  of  the 
Piazza  Hotel,  Govent  Garden,  London. 

With  the  calm  deliberation  of  a  man 
whose  whole  day  is  unoccupied,  the  York- 
shireman sweetened  his  tea,  drew  the 
muffin  and  a  select  dish  of  prawns  to  his 
elbow,  and  turning  sideways  to  the  table, 
crossed  his  legs  and  prepared  to  con  the 
contents  of  the  paper.  The  first  page  as 
usual  was  full  of  advertisements. — Sales 
by  auction — Favor  of  your  vote  and  in- 
terest— If  the  next  of  kin — Reform  your 
tailor's  bills — Law — Articled  clerk — An 
absolute  reversion — Pony  phaeton — Arti- 
ficial teeth — Messrs.  Tattersall— Brace  of 
pointers — Dog  lost — Boy  found — Great 
sacrifice — No  advance  in  coffee — Matri- 
mony— A  single  gentleman — Board  and 
lodging  in  an  airy  situation — To  omnibus 
proprietors— Steam  to  Leith  and  Hull — 
Stationery — Desirable  investment  for  a 
•mall  capital — The  fire  reviver  or  lighter. 

Then  turning  it  over,  his  eye  ranged 
over  a  whole  meadow  of  type,  consisting 
of  the  previous  night's  debate,  followed 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


on  by  City  News,  Police  Reports,  Fashion- 
able arrivals  and  departures,  Dinners 
given,  Sporting  Intelligence,  Newmarket 
Craven  meeting.  "That's  more  in  my 
way,"  said  the  Yorkshireman  to  himself 
as  he  laid  down  the  paper  and  took  a  sip 
of  his  tea.  "  I've  a  great  mind  to  go,  for  I 
may  just  as  well  be  at  Newmarket  as  here, 
having  nothing  particular  to  do  in  either 
place.  I  came  to  stay  a  hundred  pounds 
in  London  it 's  true,  but  if  I  stay  ten  of 
it  at  Newmarket,  it  'ill  be  all  the  same, 
and  I  can  go  home  from  there  just  as  well 
as  from  here ; "  so  saying  he  took  another 
turn  at  the  tea.  The  race  list  was  a  tempt- 
ing one,  Riddlesworth,  Craven  stakes, 
Column  stakes,  Oatlands,  Port,  Claret, 
Sherry,  Madeira,  and  all  other  sorts.  A 
good  week's  racing  in  fact,  for  the  saintly 
sinners  who  frequent  the  Heath  had  not 
then  discovered  any  greater  impropriety  in 
travelling  on  a*  Sunday,  than  in  cheating 
each  other  on  the  Monday.  The  tea  was 

S)od,  so  were  the  prawns  and  eggs,  and 
eorge  brought  a  second  muffin,  at  the 
very  moment  that  the  Yorkshireman  had 
finished  the  last  piece  of  the  first,  so  that 
by  the  time  he  had  done  his  breakfast  and 
drawn  on  his  boots,  which  were  dryer  and 
pleasanter  than  the  recent  damp  weather 
had  allowed  of  their  being,  he  felt  com- 
pletely at  peace  with  himself  and  all  the 
world,  and  putting  on  his  hat,  sallied 
forth  with  the  self-satisfied  air  of1  a  man 
who  had  ate  a  good  breakfast,  and  yet  not 
too  much. 

Newmarket  was  still  uppermost  in  his 
mind  ;  and  as  he  sauntered  along  in  the 
direction  of  the  Strand,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  perhaps  Mr.  Jorrocks  might  have  no 
objection  to  accompany  him.  On  entering 
that  great  thoroughfare  of  humanity,  he 
.urned  to  the  East,  and  having  examined 
;he  contents  of  all  the  caricature  shops 
n  the  line,  and  paid  three-pence  for  a 
.ook  at  the  York  Herald,  in  the  Chapter 
Coffee  House,  St.  Paul's  Church  Yard, 
about  noon  he  reached  the  corner  of  St. 
Botolph  Lane.  Before  Jorrocks  &  Co.'s 
warehouse,  great  bustle  and  symptoms  of 
brisk  trade  were  visible.  With  true  city 
)ride,  the  name  on  the  door-post  was  in 
small  dirty-white  letters,  sufficiently  ob- 
icure  to  render  it  apparent  that  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks considered  his  house  required  no 
sign ;  while,  as  a  sort  of  contradiction,  the 
overed  errand-cart  before  it,  bore  "  JOR- 
ROCKS &  Co. 'a  WHOLESALE  TEA  WARB- 

19 


290 


THE  TUEF. 


HOUSE,"  in  great  gilt  letters  on  each  side 
of  the  cover,  so  large  that  "  he  who  runs 
might  read,"  even  though  the  errand- 
cart  were  running  too. 

Into  this  cart,  which  was  drawn  hy  the 
celebrated  rat-tail  hunter,  they  were 
pitching  divers  packages  for  town  delivery, 
and  a  couple  of  light  porters  nearly  upset 
the  Yorkshireman,  as  they  bustled  out 
with  their  loads.  The  warehouse  itself 
gave  evident  proof  of  great  antiquity.  It 
was  not  one  of  your  fine,  light,  lofty,  ma- 
hogany countered,  banker-like  establish- 
ments of  modern  times,  where  the  stock 
in  trade  often  consists  of  books  and  empty 
canisters,  but  a  large,  roomy,  gloomy, 
dirty,  dingy  sort  of  a  cellar  above  ground, 
full  of  hogsheads,  casks,  flasks,  sugar 
loaves,  jars,  bags,  bottles  and  boxes. 

The  floor  was  half  an  inch  thick  at  least, 
with  dirt,  and  was  sprinkled  with  rice, 
currants,  raisins,  &c.,  as  though  they  had 
been  scattered  for  the  purpose  of  growing. 
A  small  corner  seemed  to  have  been  cut 
off,  like  the  fold  of  a  Leicestershire  graz- 
ing ground,  and  made  into  an  office, 
in  the  centre  of  which  was  a  square  or 
two  of  glass  that  commanded  a  view  of 
the  whole  warehouse.  "  Is  Mr.  Jorrocks 
in?"  inquired  the  Yorkshireman  of  a 
porter,  who  was  busy  digging  currants 
with  a  wooden  spade.  "  Yes,  sir,  you  '11 
find  him  in  the  counting-house,"  was  the 
answer ;  but  on  looking  in,  though  his 
hat  and  gloves  were  there,  no  Jorrocks  was 
visible.  At  the  further  end  of  the  ware- 
house a  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  a 
white  apron  round  his  waist  and  a  brown 
paper  cap  on  his  head,  was  seen  under  a 
very  melancholy-looking  skylight,  holding 
his  head  over  something,  as  if  his  nose 
were  bleeding.  The  Yorkshireman  groped 
his  way  up  to  him,  and,  asking  if  Mr. 
Jorrocks  was  in,  found  he  was  addressing 
the  grocer  himself.  He  had  been  leaning 
over  a  large  tray — full  of  little  white  cups 
— with  teapots  to  match — trying  the 
strength,  flavor,  and  virtue  of  a  large 
purchase  of  tea,  and  the  beverage  was  all 
smoking  before  him.  "My  vig,"  ex- 
claimed he,  holding  out  his  hand,  "  who'd 
have  thought  of  seeing  you  in  the  city, 
this  is  something  unkimmon !  However, 
you  're  wery  welcome  in  St.  Botolph  Lane, 
and  as  this  is  your  first  visit,  why  I  '11 
make  you  a  present  of  some  tea — wot  do 
you  drink  ? — black,  or  green,  or  perhaps 
both — four  pounds  of  one  and  two  of 


tother.  Here  Joe  ! "  summoning  his  fore- 
man, "  put  up  four  pounds  of  that  last  lot 
of  black  that  came  in,  and  two  pounds  of 
superior  green,  and  this  gentleman  will  tell 
you  where  to  leave  it. — A  ad  when  do  you 
think  of  starting?"  again  addressing  the 
Yorkshireman — "  egad  this  is  fine  weather 
for  the  country — have  half  a  mind  to  have 
a  jaunt  myself — makes  one  quite  young — 
feel  as  if  I'd  laid  full  fifty  years  aside,  and 
were  again  a  boy — when  did  you  say  you 
start  ?  "  "  Why  I  don't  know  exactly," 
replied  the  Yorkshireman,  "  the  weather's 
so  fine  that  I'm  half  tempted  to  go  round 
by  Newmarket."  "  Newmarket  I ''  ex- 
claimed Jorrocks,  throwing  his  arm  in  the 
air,  while  his  paper  cap  fell  from  his  head 
with  the  jerk  —  "by  Newmarket/  why, 
what  in  the  name  of  all  that 's  impure, 
have  you  to  do  at  Newmarket  ?  " 

"  Why  nothing  in  particular ;  only 
when  there's  neither  hunting  nor  shooting 
going  on,  what  is  a  man  to  do  with  him- 
self?— I'm  sure  you'd  despise  me  if  I  were 
to  go  fishing.1'  "True,"  observed  Mr. 
Jorrocks  somewhat  subdued,  and  jingling 
the  silver  in  his  breeches-pocket.  "  Fox 
'unting  is  indeed  the  prince  of  sports. 
The  image  of  war  without  its  guilt  and 
only  half  its  danger.  I  confess  I'm  a 
martyr  to  it — a  perfect  wictim — no  one 
knows  wot  I  suffer  from  my  ardor — If 
ever  I'm  visited  with  the  last  infirmity  of 
noble  minds,  it  will  be  caused  by  my  un- 
governable passion  for  the  chase.  The 
sight  of  a  saddle  makes  me  sweat.  An  'ound 
makes  me  perfectly  wild.  A  red  coat 
throws  me  into  a  scarlet  fever.  Never 
throughout  life  have  I  had  a  good  night's 
rest  before  an  'unting  morning.  But 
werry  little  racing  does  for  me ;  Sadler's 
Wells  is  well  enough  of  a  fine  summer 
evening — especially  when  they  plump  the 
clown  overhead  in  the  New  River  cut, 
and  the  ponies  don't  misbehave  in  the 
Circus, — but  oh  !  Newmarket's  a  dreadful 
place,  the  werry  name's  a  sickener.  I 
used  to  hear  a  vast  about  it  from  poor 
Will  Softly  of  Friday  Street.  It  was  the 
ruin  of  him — and  wotn,  fine  business  his 
father  left  him,  both  wholesale  and  retail, 
in  the  tripe  and  cow-heel  line — all  went 
in  two  years,  and  he  had  nothing  to  show 
at  the  end  of  that  time  fbr  upwards  of 
twenty  thousand  golden  sovereigns,  but  a 
hundred  weight  of  children's  lamb's-wool 
socks,  and  warrants  for  thirteen  hogsheads 
of  damaged  sherry  in  the  docks.  No, 


THE  TURF. 


291 


take  my  advice,  and  have  nothing  to  say 
to  them — stay  where  you  are,  or,  if  you're 
short  of  swag,  come  to  Great  Coram  Street, 
where  you  shall  have  a  bed,  wear-and- 
tear  for  your  teeth,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  found  you,  and,  if  Saturday's  a  fine 
day,  I'll  treat  you  with  a  jaunt  to  Mar- 
gate." 

"  You  are  a  regular  old  trump,"  said  the 
Yorkshireman,  after  listening  attentively 
until  Mr.  Jorrocks  had  exhausted  himself, 
"but  you  see  you've  never  been  at  New- 
market, and  the  people  have  been  hoax- 
ing you  about  it.  I  can  assure  you  from 
personal  experience  that  the  people  there 
are  quite  as  honest  as  those  you  meet 
every  day  on  'Change,  besides  which, 
there  is  nothing  more  invigorating  to  the 
human  frame — nothing  more  cheering  to 
the  spirits  than  the  sight  and  air  of  New- 
market Heath  on  a  fine  fresh  spring 
morning  like  the  present.  The  wind  seems 
to  go  by  you  at  a  racing  pace,  and  the 
blood  canters  up  and  down  the  veins  with 
the  finest  and  freest  action  imaginable. 
A  stranger  to  the  race-course  would  feel, 
and  almost  instinctively  know,  what  turf 
he  was  treading,  and  the  purpose  for  which 
that  turf  was  intended. 

'  There's  a  magic  in  the  web  of  it.'  "' 

"  Oh  I  know's  you  are  a  most  persuasive 
cock,"  observed  Mr.  Jorrocks  interrupting 
the  Yorkshireman,  "  and  would  convince 
the  devil  himself  that  black  is  white,  but 
you'll  never  make  me  believe  the  New- 
market folks  are  honest,  and  as  to  the  fine 
hair  (air)  you  talk  of,  there's  quite  as  good 
to  get  on  the  Hampstead  Heath,  and  if  it 
doesn't  make  the  blood  canter  up  and 
down  your  weins,  you  can  always  amuse 
yourself  by  watching  the  donkeys  canter- 
ing up  and  down  with  the  sweet  little 
children — haw  haw  haw  ! — But  tell  me 
what  is  there  at  Newmarket  that  should 
take  a  man  there  ?"  "  What  is  there  ?" 
rejoined  the  Yorkshireman,  "  why  there's 
everything  that  makes  life  desirable  and 
constitutes  happiness,  in  this  world,  except 
hunting.  First  there  is  the  beautiful, 
neat,  clean  towns  with  groups  of  booted 
professors,  ready  for  the  rapidest  march  of 
intellect;  then  there  are  the  strings  of 
clothed  horses — the  finest  in  the  world — 
passing  indolently  at  intervals  to  their 
exercise, — the  flower  of  the  English  aris- 
tocracy residing  in  the  place.  You  leave 


the  town  and  stroll  to  the  wide  open  heath, 
where  all  is  brightness  and  space ;  the 
white  rails  stand  forth  against  the  clear 
blue  sky — the  brushing  gallop  ever  and 
anon  startles  the  ear  and  eye  ;  crowds  of 
stable  urchins,  full  of  silent  importance, 
stud  the  heath  ;  you  feel  elated  and  long 
to  bound  over  the  well  groomed  turf  and 
to  try  the  speed  of  the  careering  wind. 
All  things  at  Newmarket  train  the  mind 
to  racing.  Life  seems  on  the  start,  and 
dull  indeed  were  he  who  could  rein  in  his 
feelings  when  such  inspiriting  objects 
meet  together  to  madden  them !" 

'  Bravo  ["exclaimed  Jorrocks,  throwing 
his  paper  cap  in  the  air  as  the  Yorkshire- 
man concluded — "  Bravo ! — werry  good 
indeed !  You  speak  like  ten  Lord  Mayors 
— never  heard  nothing  better.  Dash  my 
vig,  if  I  won't  go.  By  Jove,  you've  done 
it.  Tell  me  one  thing — is  there  a  good 
place  to  feed  at?'1 

"  Capital !"  replied  the  Yorkshireman, 
"  beef,  mutton,  cheese,  ham,  all  the  deli- 
cacies of  the  season,  as  the  sailor  said ;" 
and  thereupon  the  Yorkshireman  and 
Jorrocks  shook  hands  upon  the  bargain. 

Sunday  night  arrived,  and  with  it  ar- 
rived, at  the  Belle  Sauvage,  in  Ludgate 
hill,  Mr.  Jorrocks's  boy  "  Binjimin,"  with 
Mr.  Jorrocks's  carpet  bag;  and  shortly 
after  Mr.  Jorrocks,  on  his  chestnut  hunter, 
and  the  Yorkshireman,  in  a  hack  cab, 
entered  the  yard.  Having  consigned  his 
horse  to  Binjimin,  after  giving  him  a  very 
instructive  lesson  relative  to  the  manner 
in  which  he  would  chastise  him  if  he  heard 
of  his  trotting  or  playing  any  tricks  with 
the  horse  on  his  way  home,  Mr.  Jorrocks 
proceeded  to  pay  the  remainder  of  his  fare 
in  the  coach  office.  The  mail  was  full 
inside  and  out,  indeed  the  book-keeper 
assured  him  he  could  have  filled  a  dozen 
more,  so  anxious  were  all  London  to  see 
the  Riddlesworth  run.  "  Inside,"  said  he, 
"  are  you  and  your  friend,  and  if  it  wern't 
that  .the  night  air  might  give  you  cold, 
Mr.  Jorrocks,''  (for  all  the  book-keepers 
in  London  know  him)  "  I  should  have 
liked  to  have  got  you  out — sides,  and  I 
tried  to  make  an  exchange  with  two  black- 
legs, but  they  would  hear  of  nothing  less 
than  two  guineas  a  head,  which  wouldn't 
do,  you  know.  Here  comes  another  of 
your  passengers — a  great  foreign  noble- 
man they  say — Baron  something — though 
he  looks  as  much  like  a  foreign  pickpocket 
as  anything  else." 


292 


THE  TURF. 


•*  Vich  be  de  voiture  ?'  inquired  a  tall, 
gaunt-looking  foreigner,  with  immense 
moustache,  a  high  conical  hat,  with  a 
bright  buckle,  long  loose  bluiih-blackish 
frock  coat,  very  short  white  waistcoat, 
baggy  brownish  striped  trousers,  and  long 
footed  Wellington  boots,  with  a  sort  of 
Chinese  turn  up  at  the  toe.  "  Vich  be  de 
Newmarket  voiture?"  said  he,  repeating 
the  query,  as  he  entered  the  office  and  de- 
posited a  silk  umbrella,  a  camlet  cloak, 
and  a  Swiss  knapsack  on  the  counter. 
The  porter,  without  any  attempt  at  an 
answer,  took  his  goods  and  walked  off  to 
the  mail,  followed  closely  by  the  Baron, 
and  after  depositing  the  cloak  inside,  so 
that  the  Baron  might  ride  with  his  "  face 
to  the  horses,"  as  the  saying  is,  he  turned 
the  knapsack  into  the  hind  boot,  and 
swung  himself  into  the  office  till  it  was 
time  to  ask  for  something  for  his  exertions. 
Meanwhile  the  Baron  made  a  tour  of  the 
yard,  taking  a  lesson  in  English  from  the 
lettering  on  the  various  coaches,  when,  on 
the  hind  boot  of  one,  he  deciphered  the 
word  Cheapside-^-"  Ah,  Cheapside !"  said 
he,  pulling  out  his  dictionary,  and  turning 
U>  the  letter  C.  "  Chaste,  chat,  chaw, — 
theap,  dat  be  it.  Cheap,  to  be  had  at  a 
\ow  price — small  value.  Ah  1  I  hev  (have) 
it,"  said  he,  stamping  and  knitting  his 
brows,  mcrt  e-e-e-enom  de  Dieu,"  and  the 
first  word  being  drawn  out  to  its  nasal 
longitude,  three  strides  brought  him  and 
the  conclusion  of  the  oath  into  the  office 
together.  He  then  opened  out  upon  the 
book-keeper,  in  a  tremendous  volley  of 
French,  English,  and  Hanoverian  oaths, 
for  he  was  a  cross  between  the  first  and 
last  named  countries,  the  purport  of  which 
was  "  dad  he  had  paid  de  best  price,  and 
he  be  dem  if  he  vod  ride  on  de  Cheapside 
of  the  coach."  In  vain  the  clerks  and 
bookkeepers  tried  to  convince  him  he  was 
wrong  in  his  interpretation.  With  the 
full  conviction  of  a  foreigner  that  he  was 
about  to  be  cheated,  he  had  his  cloak 
shifted  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  coach, 
and  the  knapsack  placed  on  the  roof. 

The  fourth  inside  having  cast  up,  the 
outside  passengers  mounted,  the  insides 
took  their  places,  three-pences  and  six- 
pences were  pulled  out  for  the  porters,  the 
guard  twanged  his  horn,  the  coachman 
turned  out  his  elbow,  flourished  his  whip, 
caught  the  point,  cried  "All  right!  sit 
tight  1"  and  trotted  out  of  the  yard. 

Jorrocks  and  the  Yorkshireman  sat  op- 


posite each  other,  the  Baron  and  old  Sam 
Spring,  the  betting  man,  did  likewise. 
Who  doesn't  know  old  Sam,  with  his  cu- 
rious tortoise  shell-rimmed  spectacles,  hia 
old  drab  hat  turned  up  with  green,  care- 
less neckcloth,  flowing  robe,  and  comical 
cut?  He  knew  Jorrocks — though,  tell  it 
not  in  Coram  Street,  he  didn't  know  his 
name;  but  concluding  from  the  disparity 
of  age  between  him  and  his  companion, 
that  Jorrocks  was  either  a  shark  or  a 
shark's  jackall,  and  the  Yorkshireman  a 
victim,  with  due  professional  delicacy,  he 
contented  himself  with  scrutinizing  the 
latter  through  his  specs.  The  Baron's 
choler  having  subsided,  he  was  the  first 
to  break  the  ice  of  silence.  "Foine 
noight,"  was  the  observation,  which  was 
thrown  out  promiscuously  to  see  who 
would  take  it  up.  Now  Sam  Spring, 
though  he  came  late,  had  learned  from  the 
porter  that  there  was  a  Baron  in  the  coach, 
and  being  a  great  admirer  of  the  nobility, 
for  whose  use  he  has  a  code  of  signals  of 
his  own,  consisting  of  one  finger  to  his 
hat  for  a  Baron  Lord  as  he  calls  them,  two 
for  a  Viscount,  three  for  an  Earl,  four  for 
a  Marquis,  and  the  whole  hand  for  a  Duke, 
he  immediately  responded  with  "  Yes,  my 
lord,"  with  a  fore-finger  to  his  hat.  There 
is  something  sweet  in  the  word  "  Lord  " 
which  finds  its  way  home  to  the  heart  of 
an  Englishman.  No  sooner  did  Sam  pro- 
nounce it,  than  the  Baron  became  trans- 
formed in  Jorrocks's  eyes  into  a  very  supe- 
rior sort  of  person,  and  forthwith  he  com- 
menced ingratiating  himself  by  offering 
him  a  share  of  a  large  paper  of  sandwich- 
es, which  the  Baron  accepted  with  the 
greatest  condescension,  eating  what  he 
could  and  stuffing  the  remainder  into  his 
hat.  His  lordship  was  a  better  hand  at 
eating  than  speaking,  and  the  united 
efforts  of  the  party  could  not  extract  from 
him  the  precise  purport  of  his  journey. 
Sam  threw  out  two  or  three  feasible  offers 
in  the  way  of  bets,  but  they  fell  still-born 
to  the  bottom  of  the  coach,  and  Jorrocks 
talked  to  him  about  hunting  and  had  the 
conversation  all  to  himself,  the  Baron 
merely  replying  with  a  bow  and  a  stare, 
sometimes  diversified  with,  or  "  I  tank  you 
— vare  good."  The  conversation  by  de- 
grees resolved  itself  into  a  snore,  in  which 
they  were  all  indulging,  when  the  raw 
morning  air  rushed  in  among  them,  as  a 
porter  with  a  Ian  thorn  opened  the  door 
and  announced  their  arrival  at  New? 


THE  TURF. 


293 


market.  Forthwith  they  turned  into  the 
street,  and  the  outside  passengers  having 
descended,  they  all  commenced  strad- 
dling, yawning,  and  stretching  their  limbs, 
while  the  guard  and  porters  sorted  their 
luggage.  The  Yorkshireman  having  an 
eye  to  a  bed,  speedily  had  Mr.  Jorrocks's 
luggage  and  his  own  on  the  back  of  a 
porter  on  its  way  to  the  Rutland  Arms, 
while  that  worthy  citizen  followed  in  a 
sort  of  sleepy  astonishment  at  the  small- 
ness  of  the  place,  inquiring  if  they  were 
sure  they  had  not  stopped  at  some  village 
by  mistake.  Two  beds  had  been  ordered 
for  two  gentlemen  who  could  not  get  two 
seats  by  the  mail,  which  fell  to  the  lot  of 
those  who  did,  and  into  these  our  heroes 
trundled,  having  arranged  to  be  called  by 
the  early  exercising  hour. 

Whether  it  was  from  want  of  his  usual 
night-cap  of  brandy  and  water,  or  the 
fatigues  of  travelling,  or  what  else,  re- 
mains unknown,  but  no  sooner  was  Mr. 
Jorrocks  left  alone  with  his  candle,  than 
all  at  once  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
fit  of  trepidation,  on  thinking  that  he 
should  have  been  inveigled  to  such  a 
place  as  Newmarket,  and  the  tremor  in- 
creasing as  he  pulled  four  five  pound 
bank  notes  out  of  his  watch-pocket,  be- 
sides a  vast  of  silver  and  his  great  gold 
watch,  he  was  resolved,  should  an  attempt 
be  made  upon  his  property,  to  defend  it 
with  his  life,  and  having  squeezed  the 
notes  into  the  toe  of  his  boots,  and  hid  the 
silver  in  the  wash-hand  stand,  he  very 
deliberately  put  his  watch  and  the  poker 
under  the  pillow,  and  set  the  heavy  chest 
of  drawers  with  two  stout  chairs  and  a 
table  against  the  door,  after  all  whieh 
exertions  he  got  into  bed  and  very  soon 
fell  sound  asleep. 

Most  of  the  inmates  of  the  house  were 
up  with  the  lark  to  the  early  exercise, 
and  the  Yorkshireman  was  as  early  as 
any  of  them.  Having  found  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks's door  he  commenced  a  loud  battery 
against  it  without  awakening  the  grocer ; 
he  then  tried  to  open  it,  but  only  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  it  an  inch  or  two  from 
the  post,  and  after  several  holloas  of 
"Jorrocks  my  man!  Mr.  Jorrocks!  Jor- 
rocks, old  boy!  holloa  Jorrocks !"  he  suc- 
ceeded in  extracting  the  word  "Wot?" 
from  the  worthy  gentleman  as  he  rolled 
over  in  his  bed.  "Jorrocks!"  repeated 
the  Yorkshireman,  "it's  time  to  be  up." 
**  Wot  ?  "  again  was  the  answer.  "  Time 


to  get  up.  The  morning's  breaking." 
"Let  it  break,"  replied  he,  adding  in  a 
mutter,  as  he  turned  over  again,  "  it  owei 
me  nothing." 

Entreaties  being  useless,  and  a  large 
party  being  on  the  point  of  setting  off, 
the  Yorkshireman  joined  them,  and  spent 
a  couple  of  hours  on  the  dew-bespangled 
heath,  during  which  time  they  not  only 
criticised  the  figure  and  action  of  every 
horse  that  was  out,  but  got  up  tremendous 
appetites  for  breakfast.  In  the  meantime 
Mr.  Jorrocks  had  risen,  and  having  at- 
tired himself  with  his  usual  care,  in  a 
smart  blue  coat  with  metal  buttons,  buff 
waistcoat,  blue  stocking-netted  tights,  and 
Hessian  boots,  he  turned  into  the  main 
street  of  Newmarket,  where  he  was  lost 
in  astonishment  at  the  insignificance  of 
the  place.  But  wiser  men  than  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks have  been  similarly  disappointed, 
for  it  enters  into  the  philosophy  of  few  ta 
conceive  the  fame  and  grandeur  of  New- 
market compressed  into  the  limits  of  the 
petty,  outlandish,  Icelandish  place  that 
bears  the  name.  "  Dash  my  vig,''  said 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  as  he  brought  himself  to 
bear  upon  Rogers's  shop  window,  "this 
is  the  werry  meanest  town  I  ever  did  see. 
Pray,  sir,"  addressing  himself  to  a  groom- 
ish-looking  man  in  a  brown  cut-away 
coat,  drab  shorts  and  continuations,  who 
hud  just  emerged  from  the  shop  with  a 
nice  list  in  his  hand,  "  Pray,  sir,  be  this 
your  principal  street?"  The  man  eyed 
him  with  a  mixed  look  of  incredulity 
and  contempt.  At  length  putting  his 
thumbs  into  the  arm-holes  of  his  waist- 
coat, he  replied,  "  I  bet  a  crown  you 
know  as  well  as  I  do."  "Done,"  said 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  No — I  won't  do  that,"  replied  the  man, 
"  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you— 
I'll  lay  you  two  to  one,  in  fives  or  fifties 
if  you  like,  that  you  knew  before  you 
axed,  and  that  Thunderbolt  don't  win 
the  Eiddlesworth."  "Really,"  said  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  "  I'm  not  a  betting  man." 
"  Then  wot  the  'ell  (hell)  business  have 
you  at  Newmarket?"  was  all  the  answer 
he  got.  Disgusted  with  such  inhospitable 
impertinence,  Mr.  Jorrocks  turned  on  his 
heel  and  walked  away.  Before  the  White 
Hart  Inn  was  a  smartish  pony  phaeton, 
in  charge  of  a  stunted  stable  lad.  "  I  say 
young  chap,"  inquired  Jorrocks,  "  whose 
is  that?"  "How  did  you  know  that  I 
was  a  young  chap  ?  "  inquired  the  abor- 


294 


THE  TURF. 


tion,  turning  round.  "Guessed  it,"  re- 
plied Jorrocks,  chuckling  at  his  own  wit. 
Then  guess  whose  o'it." 

"  Pray,  are  your  clocks  here  by  London 
time  ?  "  he  asked  of  a  respectable  elderly- 
looking  man  whom  he  saw  turn  out  of 
the  entry  leading  to  the  Kingston  rooms, 
and  take  the  usual  survey  first  up  the 
town  and  then  down  it,  and  afterwards 
compose  his  hands  in  his  breeches  pock- 
ets, there  to  stand  to  see  the  "world."1 
"  Come  now,  old  'un — none  o'  your  tricks 
here — you've  got  a  match  on  against  time, 
I  suppose,''  was  all  the  answer  he  could 

get  after  the  man  (old  R n  the  ex- 

flagellator)  had  surveyed  him  from  head 
to  foot. 

We  need  hardly  say  after  all  these  re- 
buffs that  when  Mr.  Jorrocks  met  the 
Yorkshireman,  he  was  not  in  the  best 
possible  humor;  indeed,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  extreme  sharpness  and  suspicion 
of  the  people,  we  know  of  no  place  where 
a  man,  not  fond  of  racing,  is  so  com- 
pletely out  of  his  element  as  at  Newmar- 
ket, for  with  the  exception  of  a  little 
"  elbow  shaking  "  in  the  evening,  there  is 
literally  and  truly  nothing  else  to  do.  It 
is  "Heath,"  "Ditch  in,"  "Abingdon 
mile."  "T.  Y.  C.  Stakes,"  "Sweepstakes," 
"Handicaps,"  "Bet,"  "Lay,"  "Take," 
"Odds,"  "Evens,"  morning,  noon,  and 
night. 

Mr.  Jorrocks  made  bitter  complaints 
during  the  breakfast,  and  some  invidious 
comparisons  between  racing  men  and 
ibx-hunters,  which,  however,  became 
softer  towards  the  close,  as  he  got  deeper 
in  the  delicacy  of  a  fine  Cambridge 
brawn.  Nature  being  at  length  appeased, 
he  again  thought  of  turning  out,  to  have 
a  look,  as  he  said,  at  the  shows  on  the 
course,  but  the  appearance  of  his  friend 
the  Baron  opposite  the  window,  put  it 
out  of  his  head,  and  he  sallied  forth  to 
join  him.  The  Baron  was  evidently  in- 
cog: for  he  had  on  the  same  short  dirty- 
white  waistcoat,  Chinese  boots,  conical 
hat,  &c.,  that  he  travelled  down  in,  and 
being  a  stranger  in  the  land,  of  course  he 
was  uncommonly  glad  to  pick  up  Jor- 
rocks, so  after  he  had  hugged  him  a  little, 
called  him  a  "bon  garcon,"  and  a  few 
other  endearing  terms,  he  run  his  great 
long  arm  through  his,  and  walked  him 


'Newmarket  or   London — it's  all  the  same.     "The 
World  "  is  but  composed  of  one's_own  acquaintance. 


down  street,  the  whole  peregrinations  ol 
Newmarket  being  comprised  in  the  words 
"up  street"  and  "down."  He  then  com- 
municated in  most  unrepresentable  lan- 
guage, that  he  was  on  his  way  to  buy 
''an  'oss,"  and  Jorrocks  informing  him 
that  he  was  a  perfect  connoisseur  in  the 
article,  the  Baron  again  assured  him  of 
his  distinguished  consideration.  They 
were  met  by  Joe  Rogers,  the  trainer,  with 
a  ring  key  in  his  hand,  who  led  the  way 
to  the  stable,  and  having  unlocked  a  box 
in  which  was  a  fine  slapping  four-year 
old,  according  to  etiquette  he  put  his  hat 
in  a  corner,  took  a  switch  in  one  hand, 
laid  hold  of  the  horse's  head  with  the 
other,  while  the  lad  in  attendance  stripped 
off  its  clothes.  The  Baron  then  turned 
up  his  wrists,  and  making  a  curious  noise 
in  his  throat,  proceeded  to  pass  his  hand 
down  each  leg,  and  along  its  back,  after 
which  he  gave  it  a  thump  in  the  belly 
and  squeezed  its  throat,  when,  being  as 
wise  as  he  was  at  starting,  he  stuck  his 
thumb  in  his  side,  and  took  a  mental 
survey  of  the  whole.  "Ah,"  said  he  at 
length — "  foin  oss, — foin  oss ; — vot  ears  he 
has?"  "Oh,"  said  Rogers,  "they  show 
breeding."  "  Non,  non,  I  say  vot  ears  he 
has? "  "Well,  but  he  carries  them  well," 
was  the  answer.  "  Non,  non,"  stamping, 
"I  say  vot  ears  (years)  he  has?"  Oh, 
hang  it,  I  twig — four  years  old."  Then 
the  Baron  took  another  long  look  at  him. 
At  length  he  resumed :  "  I  vill  my  wet." 
"What's  that?  "  inquired  Rogers  of  Jor- 
rocks. "His  wet — why  a  drink  to  be 
sure,"  and  thereupon  Kogers  went  to  th* 
pump  and  brought  a  glass  of  pure  water, 
which  the  Baron  refused  with  becoming 
indignation.  "Non,  non,"  said  he,  stamp- 
ing, "/  vill  my  vet"  Rogers  looked  at 
Jorrocks,  and  Jorrocks  looked  at  Rogers, 
but  neither  Rogers  nor  Jorrocks  under- 
stood him.  "I vill  my  vet,"  repeated  the 
Baron  with  vehemence.  "  He  must  want 
some  brandy  in  it,"  observed  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, judging  of  the  Baron  by  himself, 
and  thereupon  the  lad  was  sent  for  three- 
penn'orth.  When  it  arrived,  the  Baron 
dashed  it  out  of  his  hand  with  a  pro- 
longed saere-e-e-e — /  adding,  "  I  vill  von 
wet-tin-nin-na-ary  surgeon."  The  boy 
was  despatched  for  one,  and  on  his  arri- 
val the  veterinary  surgeon  went  through 
the  process  that  the  Baron  had  attempted, 
and  not  being  a  man  of  many  words,  he 
just  gave  the  Baron  a  nod  at  the  end. 


THE  TURF. 


295 


"How  moch?"  inquired  the  Baron  of 
Rogers.  "  Five  hundred,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "  Vot,  five  hundred  livre?  "  "  Oh 
d — n  it,  you  may  take  him  or  leave  him 
just  as  you  like,  but  you  won't  get  him  for 
less."  The  "vet"  explained  that  the 
Baron  wished  to  know  whether  it  was 
five  hundred  francs  (French  ten-pences), 
or  five  hundred  guineas  English  money, 
and  being  informed  that  it  was  the  latter, 
he  gave  his  conical  hat  a  thrust  on  hia 
brow,  and  bolted  out  of  the  box. 

But  race-hour  approaches,  and  the  peo- 
ple begin  to  assemble  in  groups  before 
the  "  rooms,"  while  tax-carts,  pony-gigs, 
post-chaises,  the  usual  aristocratical  ac- 
companiments of  Newmarket,  come 
dribbling  at  intervals  into  the  town. 
Here  is  old  Sam  Spring  in  a  spring-cart, 
driven  by  a  ploughboy  in  fustian,  there 

the  Earl  of on  a  ten-pound  pony, 

with  the  girths  elegantly  parted  to  prevent 
the  saddle  slipping  over  its  head,  while 

Miss  ,  his  jockey's  daughter,  dashes 

by  him  in  a  phaeton  with  a  powdered 
footman,  and  the  postillion  in  scarlet  and 
leathers,  with  a  badge  on  his  arm.  Old 
Crockey  puts  on  his  great  coat ;  Jem 
Bland  draws  the  yellow  phaeton  and 
greys  to  the  gateway  of  the  White  Hart 
to  take  up  his  friend  Crutch  Robinson  ; 
Zac,  Jack,  and  another,  have  just  driven 
in  in  a  fly.  In  short  it's  a  brilliant  meet- 
ing.1 Besides  four  coronetted  carriages 
with  post-horses,  there  are  three  phaetons- 
and-pair ;  a  thing  that  would  have  been 
a  phaeton  if  they'd  have  let  it;  General 
Grosvenor's  dog-carriage,  that  is  to  say, 
his  carriage  with  a  dog  upon  it ;  Lady 
Chesterfield  and  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Anson  in 
a  pony-phaeton  with  an  out-rider  (Miss 

will  have  one  next  meeting  instead 

of  the  powdered  footman) ;  Tattersall  in. 
his  double  carriage,  driving  without  bear- 
ing reins;  Old  Theobald  in  leather 
breeches  and  a  buggy  ;  five  Bury  butchers 
in  a  tax-cart;  Young  Dutch  Sam  on  a 
pony;  "Short-odds  Richards"  on  a  long- 
backed  crocodile-looking  rosinante ;  and 
no  end  of  pedestrians. 

But  where  is  Mr.  Jorrocks  all  this 
time  ?  Why,  eating  brawn  in  the  Rutland 
Arms  with  his  friend  the  Baron,  perfectly 
unconscious  that  all  these  passers-by  were 


1  The  poverty,  both  in  numbers  and  appearance,  of  a 
Kewmarket  turn  out,  must  have  surprised  many  a 
beholder. 


not  the  daily  visibles  of  the  place. 
"  Dash  my  vig,"  said  he,  as  he  bolted 
another  half  of  the  round,  "  I  see  no 
symptoms  of  a  stir.  Come,  my  lord,  do 
me  the  honor  to  take  another  glass  of 
sherry."  Hia  lordship  was  nothing  loath, 
so  by  mutual  entreaties  they  finished  the 
bottle,  besides  a  considerable  quantity  of 
porter.  A  fine,  fat,  chestnut,  long-tailed, 
Suffolk-punch  cart-mare — fresh  from  the 
plough — having  been  considerately  pro- 
vided by  the  Yorkshireman  for  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, with  a  cob  for  himself,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  mount  in  the  yard,  when  Mr. 
Jorrocks  was  concerned  to  find  that  the 
Baron  had  nothing  to  carry  him.  His 
lordship,  too,  seemed  disconcerted,  but  it 
was  only  momentary  ;  for  walking  up  to 
the  punch  mare,  and  resting  his  elbow  on 
her  hind  quarter  to  try  if  she  kicked,  he 
very  coolly  vaulted  up  behind  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks. Now  Jorrocks,  though  proud  of 
the  patronage  of  a  lord,  did  not  exactly 
comprehend  whether  he  was  in  earnest  or 
not,  but  the  Baron  soon  let  him  know ; 
for  thrusting  his  conical  hat  on  his  brow, 
he  put  his  arm  round  Jorrocks's  waist,  and 
gave  the  old  mare  a  touch  in  the  flank 
with  the  Chinese  boot,  crying  out — 
"  Along  me  brave  garcon,  along  ma  cher," 
and  the  owner  of  the  mare  living  at  Kent- 
ford,  she  went  off  at  a  brisk  trot  in  that 
direction,  while  the  Yorkshireman  slipped 
down  the  town  unperceived.  The  sherry 
had  done  its  business  on  them  both ;  the 
Baron,  and  who,  perhaps,  was  the  most 
"  cut "  of  the  two,  chaunted  the  Marseil- 
laise hymn  of  liberty  with  as  much  free- 
dom as  though  he  was  sitting  in  the  sad- 
dle. Thus  they  proceeded  laughing  and 
singing  until  the  Bury  pay-gate  arrested 
their  progress,  when  it  occurred  to  the 
steersman  to  ask  if  they  were  going  right. 
"  Be  this  the  vay  to  Newmarket  races  ?  " 
inquired  Jorrocks  of  the  pike-keeper. 
The  man  dived  into  the  small  pocket  of 
his  white  apron  for  a  ticket,  and  very 
coolly  replied,  "  SMI  out,  old'un."  "  How 
much  ?  "  said  Jorrocks.  "  Tuppence," 
which  having  got,  he  said  "  now  then  you 
may  turn,  for  the  heath  be  over  yonder," 
pointing  back,  "  at  least  it  was  there  this 
morning,  I  know."  After  a  volley  of 
abuse  for  his  impudence,  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
with  some  difficulty,  got  the  old  mare 
pulled  round,  for  she  had  a  deuced  hard 
mouth  of  her  own,  and  only  a  plain 
snaffle  in  it;  at  last,  however,  with  the 


296 


THE  TURF. 


aid  of  a  boy  to  beat  her  with  a  furze  bush, 
they  got  her  set  a-going  again,  and  retrac- 
ing their  steps,  they  trotted  "down 
street,"  rose  the  hill,  and  entered  the 
Bpacious  wide-extending  flat  of  New- 
market heath.  The  races  were  going  for- 
ward on  one  of  the  distant  courses,  and  a 
slight,  insignificant  black  streak,  swelling 
into  a  sort  of  oblong  (for  all  the  world 
like  an  overgrown  tadpole)  was  all  that 
denoted  the  spot,  or  interrupted  the  ver- 
dant aspect  of  the  quiet  extensive  plain. 
Jorrocks  was  horrified,  having  through 
life  pictured  Epsom  as  a  mere  drop  in  the 
ocean  compared  with  the  countless  multi- 
tude of  Newmarket,  while  the  Baron, 
who  was  wholly  indifferent  to  the  matter, 
nearly  had  old  Jorrocks  pitched  over  the 
mare's  head  by  applying  the  furze  bush 
(which  he  had  got  from  the  boy)  to  her 
tail  while  Mr.  Jorrocks  was  sitting  loose- 
ly, contemplating  the  barrenness  of  the 
prospect.  The  sherry  was  still  alive,  and 
being  all  for  fun,  he  shuffled  back  into  the 
saddle  as  soon  as  the  old  mare  gave  over 
kicking ;  and  giving  a  loud  tally-ho,  with 
some  minor  "hunting  noises,"  which 
were  responded  to  by  the  Baron  in  notes 
not  capable  of  being  set  to  music,  and 
aided  by  an  equally  indescribable  accom- 
paniment from  the  old  mare  at  every 
application  of  the  bush,  she  went  off  at 
score  over  the  springy  turf,  and  bore  them 
triumphantly  to  the  betting  post  just  as 
the  ring  was  in  course  of  formation,  a 
fact  which  she  announced  by  a  loud  neigh 
on  viewing  her  companion  of  the  plough, 
as  well  as  by  upsetting  some  half-dozen 
black-legs  as  she  rushed  through  the 
crowd  to  greet  her.  Great  was  the  hub- 
bub, shouting,  swearing,  and  laughing, — 
for  though  the  Newmarketites  are  familiar 
with  most  conveyances,  from  a  pair  of 
horses  down  to  a  pair  of  shoes,  it  had  not 
then  fallen  to  their  lot  to  see  two  men  ride 
into  the  ring  on  the  same  horse, — cer- 
tainly not  with  such  a  hat  between  them 
as  the  Baron's. 

The  gravest  and  weightiest  matters  will 
not  long  distract  the  attention  of  a  black- 
leg, and  the  laughter  having  subsided 
without  Jorrocks  or  the  Baron  being  in 
the  slightest  degree  disconcerted,  the  ring 
was  again  formed ;  horses'  heads  again 
turn  towards  the  post,  while  carriages, 
gigs,  carts,  etc.,  form  an  outer  circle.  A 
solemn  silence  ensues.  The  legs  are 
scanning  the  list.  At  length  one  gives 


tongue.  "  What  starts  ?  Does  Lord  Eldon 
start?"  "No,  he  don't,"  replies  the 
owner.  "  Does  Trick,  by  Catton?  "  "  Yes, 
and  Conolly  rides  —  but  mind,  three 
pounds  over."  "  Does  John  Bull?  "  "  No, 
John's  struck  out."  "  Polly  Hopkins 
does,  so  does  Talleyrand ;  also  O,  Fy ! 
out  of  Penitence.  Beagle  and  Paradox 
also — and  perhaps  Pickpocket." 

Another  pause,  and  the  pencils  are 
pulled  from  the  betting  books.  The  legs 
and  lords  look  at  each  other,  but  no  one 
likes  to  lead  off.  At  length  a  voice  is 
heard  offering  to  take  nine  to  one  he 
names  the  winner.  "It's  short  odds, 
doing  it  cautiously."  "I'll  take  eight 
then,"  he  adds — "  sivin ! "  but  no  one 
bites.  "  What  will  anyone  lay  about 
Trick,  by  Catton,"  inquires  Jem  Bland. 
"  I'll  lay  three  to  two  again  him."  "  I'll 
take  two  to  one — two  ponies  to  one,  and 
give  you  a  suv  for  laying  it."  "  Carn't," 
is  the  answer.  "  I'll  do  it,  Jem,"  cries  a 
voice.  "  No  you  won't,"  from  Bland,  not 
liking  his  customer.  Now  they  are  all 
at  it,  and  what  a  hubbub  there  is  !  "  I'll 
back  the  field— I'll  lay- I'll  take— I'll 
bet — ponies — fifties — hundreds — five  hun- 
dred or  two.'1  "  What  do  you  want  my 
lord?  "  -"  Three  to  one  against  Trick,  by 
Catton."  "Carn't  afford  it— the  odda 
really  arn't  that  in  the  ring."  "  Take  two 
— two  hundred  to  one.''  "  No."  "  Crock- 
ford,  you'll  do  it  for  me  ?  "  "  Yes,  my 
lord.  Twice  over  if  you  like.  Done, 
done."  "Do  it  again?"  "  No,  thank 
you." 

"Trick  by  Catton,  don't  start  I "  cries  a 
voice.  "  Impossible/  "  exclaims  his  back- 
ers. "  Quite  true,  I'm  just  from  the 
weighing-house  and told  me  so  him- 
self," "  Shame  I  Shame !  Shame !  "  roar  the 
legs  who  have  backed  him,  (it  being  a  play 
or  pay  race)  and  "  honour— rascals — rogue* 
— thieves — robbery — swindle  —  turf-ruin- 
ed '' — fly  from  rogue  to  rogue,  but  they 
are  all  speakers  with  never  a  speaker  to 
cry  order.  Meanwhile  the  lads  have  gal- 
loped by  on  their  hacks  with  the  horses' 
clothes  to  the  rubbing  house,  and  the 
horses  have  actually  started  and  are 
now  visible  in  the  distance  sweeping  over 
the  open  heath,  apparently  without  guide 
or  beacon. 

The  majority  of  the  ring  rush  to  the 
white  judge's-box,  and  have  just  time  to 
range  themselves  along  the  rude  stakes 
and  ropes  that  guard  the  run-in,  and  the 


THE  TURF. 


297 


course-keeper  in  a  shooting-jacket  on  a 
rough  pony  to  crack  his  whip,  and  cry  to 
half  a  dozen  stable  lads  to  "  clear  the 
course,'1  before  the  horses  come  flying  to- 
wards home.  Now  all  is  tremor ;  hope 
and  fear  vacillating  in  each  breast.  Si- 
lence stands  breathless  with  expectation — 
all  eyes  are  ri  vetted— the  horses  come  with- 
in descrying  distance — "  beautiful !  "  three 
close  together,  two  behind.  "  Clear  the 
course !  clear  the  course !  pray  clear  the 
course?  "  "  Polly  Hopkins  !  Polly  Hop- 
kins !  "  roar  a  hundred  voices  as  they  near ; 
"  O,  Fy !  O,  Fy !  "  respond  an  equal  num- 
ber. "  The  horse !  the  horse  !  "  bellow  a 
hundred  more,  as  though  their  yells 
would  aid  his  speed,  as  Polly  Hopkins, 
O,  Fy !  and  Talleyrand  rush  neck-and- 
neck  along  the  cords  and  pass  the  judge's 
box.  A  cry  of  "  dead  heat ! "  is  heard. 
The  by-standers  see  as  suits  their  books, 
and  immediately  rush  to  the  judge's  box, 
betting,  bellowing,  roaring,  and  yelling 
the  whole  way.  "  What's  won?  what's 
won  ?  what's  won  ?  "  is  vociferated  from  a 
hundred  voices.  "  Polly  Hopkins !  Polly 
Hopkins !  Polly  Hopkins ! ''  replies  Mr. 
Clark  with  judicial  dignity.  "  By  how 
much  ?  By  b/>w  much  ?  "  "  Half  a  head 
— half  a  head,"  replies  the  same  function- 
ary. "  What's  second?  "  "  O,  Fy !  "  and 
so  amid  the  song  of  "  Pretty,  pretty  Polly 
Hopkins,"  from  the  winners,  and  curses 
and  execrations  long,  loud,  and  deep, 
from  the  losers,  the  scene  closes. 

The  admiring  winners  follow  Polly  to 
the  rubbing-house,  while  the  losing  horses 
are  left  in  the  care  of  their  trainers  and 
stable-boys,  who  console  themselves  with 
hopes  of  "  better  luck  next  time." 

After  a  storm  comes  a  calm,  and  the 
next  proceeding  is  the  wheeling  of  the 
judge's  box,  and  the  removal  of  the  old 
stakes  and  ropes  to  another  course  on  a 
different  part  of  the  heath,  which  is  ac- 
complished by  a  few  ragged  rascals,  as 
rude  and  uncouth  as  the  furniture  they 
bear.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  same 
group  of  anxious  care-worn  countenances 
are  again  turned  upon  each  other  at  the 
betting-post,  as  though  they  had  never 
separated.  But  see,  the  noble  owner  of 
Trick,  by  Catton,  is  in  the  crowd,  and 
Jem  B  *  *  eyeing  him  like  a  hawk.  "  I 
say  Waggey,"  cries  he,  (singling  out  a 
friend  stationed  by  his  lordship)  had  you 
ought  on  Trick  by  Catton  I  "  "  No,  Jem," 
roars  Wagstaff,  shaking  his  head,  "  I  knew 


my  man  loo  well."  "  Why  now,  Waggey, 
do  you  know  I  wouldn't  have  done  such 
a  thing  for  the  world !  no,  not  even  to 
have  been  made  a  Mar  kiss  /  "  A  hoarse 
laugh  follows  this  denunciation,  at  which 
the  newly  created  marquis  bites  his  livid 
lips. 

The  Baron,  who  appears  to  have  no 
taste  for  walking,  still  sticks  to  the  Punch 
mare,  which  Mr.  Jorrocks  steers  to  the 
newly  formed  ring,  aided  by  the  Baron 
and  the  furze  bush.  Here  they  come  upon 
Sam  Spring,  whose  boy  has  just  brought 
his  spring-cart  to  bear  upon  the  ring 
formed  by  the  horsemen,  and  thinking  it 
a  pity  a  nobleman  of  any  country  should 
be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  riding 
double,  very  politely  offers  to  take  one 
into  his  carriage.  Jorrocks  accepts  the 
offer,  and  forthwith  proceeds  to  make  him- 
self quite  at  home  in  it.  The  chorus  again 
commences,  and  Jorrocks  interrogates  Sam 
as  to  the  names  of  the  brawlers.  "  Who 
be  that  ?  "  said  he, "  offering  to  bet  a  thou- 
sand to  a  hundred."  Spring,  after  eyeing 
him  through  his  spectacles,  with  a  grin 
and  a  look  of  suspicion,  replies,  "  Come 
now — come — let's  have  no  nonsense — you 
know  as  well  as  I."  "Really,"  replies 
Mr.  Jorrocks  most  earnestly,  "  /  don't." 
"  Why,  where  have  you  lived  all  your 
life  ?  "  "  First  part  of  it  with  my  grand- 
mother at  Lisson  Grove,  afterwards  at 
Camberwell,  but  now  I  resides  in  Great 
Coram  Street,  Russell  Square — a  werry 
fashionable  neighbourhood.1'  "Oh,  I  see," 
replies  Sam,  "  you  are  one  of  the  reg'lar 
city  coves  then — now  what  brings  you 
here  ?  "  "  Just  to  say  that  I  have  been  at 
Newmarket,  for  I'm  blowed  if  ever  you 
catch  me  here  again.''  "  That's  a  pity,"  re- 
plied Sam,  "  for  you  look  like  a  promising 
man — a  handsome  bodied  chap  in  the  face 
— don't  you  sport  any  ?  "  "  O  a  vast ! — 'unt 
regularly — .I'm  a  member  of  the  Surrey 
'unt — capital  one  it  is  too — best  in  Eng- 
land by  far."  "  What  do  you  hunt?" 
inquired  Sam.  "  Foxes  to  be  sure." 
"  And  are  they  good  eating?  "  "  Come," 
replied  Jorrocks,  "  you  know  as  well  as  I 
do,  we  don't  eat'  ein."  The  dialogue  was 
interrupted  by  some  one  calling  to  Sam 
to  know  what  he  was  backing. 

"  The  Bedlamite  colt,  my  lord,"  with  a 
fore-finger  to  his  hat.  "Who's  that?" 
inquired  Jorrocks.  "That's  my  lord 

L ,  a  baron-lord — and  a  very  nice  one 

— best  baron-lord  I  know — always  bets 


THE  TURF. 


with  me — that's  another  baron-lord  next 
him,  and  the  man  next  him  is  a  baron- 
knight,  a  stage  below  a  baron-lord — some- 
thing between  a  nobleman  and  a  gentle- 
man." "  And  who  be  that  stout,  good- 
looking  man  in  a  blue  coat  and  velvet 
collar  next  him,  just  rubbing  his  chin 
with  the  race  card  -  he'll  be  a  lord  too  I 

suppose?"      "No, that's    Mr.  Gully, 

as  honest  a  man  as  ever  came  here, — that's 
Crockford,  before  him.  The  man  on  the 

right  is  Mr.  C ,  who  they  call  the 

'cracksman,'  because  formerly  he  was 
a  professional  horsebreaker,  but  he  has 
given  up  that  trade,  and  turned  gentle- 
man, bets,  and  keeps  a  gaming  table. 
This  little  ugly  black-faced  chap,  that 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  bilious 
Scotch  terrier,  has  lately  come  among  us. 
He  was  a  tramping  pedlar — sold  worsted 
stockings — attended  country  courses,  and 
occasionally  bet  a  pair.  Now  he  bets 
thousands  of  pounds,  and  keeps  race- 
horses. The  chaps  about  him  all  covered 
with  chains  and  rings  and  brooches,  were 
in  the  duffing  line — sold  brimston'd  spar- 
rows for  canary  birds,  Norwich  shawls  for 
real  Cachemere,  and  dried  cabbage-leaves 
for  cigars.  Now  each  has  a  first-rate 
house,  horses  and  carriages,  and  a  play- 
actress  among  them.  Yon  chap  with  the 
extravagantly  big  mouth,  is  a  cabinet- 
maker at  Cambridge.  He'll  bet  you  a 
thousand  pounds  as  soon  as  look  at  you. 

"  The  chap  on  the  right  of  the  post  with 
the  red  tye,  is  the  son  of  an  ostler.  He 
commenced  betting  thousands  with  a  far- 
thing capital.  The  man  next  him,  all 
teeth  and  hair,  like  a  rat-catcher's  dog,  is 
an  Honourable  by  birth,  but  not  very  hon- 
ourable in  his  nature."  "  But  see,'1  cried 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  "  Lord — is  talking  to  the 
Cracksman."  "To  be  sure,"  replies  Sam, 
"  that's  the  beauty  of  the  turf.  The  lord 
and  the  leg  are  reduced  to  an  equality. 
Take  my  word  for  it,  if  you  have  a  turn 
for  good  society  you  should  come  upon 
the  turf. — I  say  my  Lord  Duke  !''  with  all 
five  fingers  up  to  his  hat,  "  I'll  lay  you 
three  to  two  on  the  Bedlamite  colt." 
"  Done,  Mr.  Spring,"  replies  his  grace, 
"  three  ponies  to  two."  **  There  ! "  cried 
Mr.  Spring,  turning  to  Jorrocks,  "  didn't 
I  tell  you  so?"  The  riot  around  the  post 
increases.  It  is  near  the  moment  of  start- 
ing, and  the  legs  again  become  clamorous 
for  what  they  want.  Their  vehemence  in- 
creases. Each  man  is  in  extremis-  "  They 


are  off!"  cries  one.  "  No,  they  are  not," 
replies  another.  "  False  start,"  roars  a 
third.  "Now  they  come!"  "No,  they 
don't!"  "  Back  again."  They  are  off  at 
last,  however,  and  away  they  speed  over 
the  flat.  The  horses  come  within  descry- 
ing distance.  It's  a  beautiful  race — run  at 
score  the  whole  way,  and  only  two  tailed 
off  within  the  cords.  Now  they  set  to- 
whips  and  spurs  go,  legs  leap,  lords  shout, 
and  amid  the  same  scene  of  confusion, 
betting,  galloping,  cursing,  swearing  and 
bellowing,  the  horses  rush  past  the  judge's 
box. 

But  we  have  run  our  race,  and  will  not 
fatigue  our  readers  with  repetition.  Let 
us,  however,  spend  the  evening,  and  then 
the  "  Day  at  Newmarket ''  will  be  done. 

Mr.  Spring,  with  his  usual  attention  to 
strangers,  persuades  Mr.  Jorrocks  to  make 
one  of  a  most  agreeable  dinner  party  at 
the  White  Hart,  on  the  assurance  of  spend- 
ing a  delightful  evening.  Covers  are  laid 
for  sixteen  in  the  front  room  down  stairs, 
and  about  six  o'clock  that  number  are 
ready  to  sit  down.  Mr.  Badchild  the  ac- 
complished keeper  of  an  oyster-room  and 
minor  hell,  in  Pickering  Place,  is  pre- 
vailed upon  to  take  the  chair,  supported 
on  his  right  by  Mr.  Jorrocbe,  and  on  his 
left  by  Mr.  Tom  Rhodes,  of  Thames  Street, 
while  the  stout,  jolly,  portly  Jerry  Haw- 
thorn fills — in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word 
— the  vice-chair.  Just  as  the  waiters  are 
removing  the  covers,  in  stalks  the  Baron, 
in  his  conical  hat,  and  reconnoitres  the 
viands.  Sam,  all  politeness,  invites  him 
to  join  the  party.  "  I  tank  you,"  replies 
the  Baron,  "  but  I  have  my  wet  in  de  next 
room."  "  But  bring  your  wet  with  you,1' 
rejoins  Sam,  "  we'll  all  have  our  wet  to- 
gether after  dinner,"  thinking  the  Baron 
meant  his  wine. 

The  usual  inn  grace — "  For  what  we 
are  going  to  receive,  the  host  expects  to  be 
paid," — -having  been  said  with  great  feel- 
ing and  earnestness,  they  are  set  to  at 
the  victuals,  and  little  conversation  passed 
until  the  removal  of  the  cloth,  when  Mr. 
Badchild  calling  upon  his  Vice,  observed 
that  as  in  all  probability  there  were 
gentlemen  of  different  political  and  other 
opinions  present,  perhaps  the  best  would 
be  to  give  a  comprehensive  toast,  and  so 
get  over  any  debateable  ground,  —  he 
therefore  proposed  to  drink  in  a  bumper, 
"  The  King,  the  Queen,  and  all  the  Koyal 
Family,  the  Ministry,  particularly  tha 


THE  TURF. 


299 


Master  of  the  Horse,  the  Army,  the  Navy, 
the  Church,  the  State,  and  after  the  ex- 
cellent dinner  they  had  eaten,  he  would 
include  the  name  of  the  landlord  of  the 
White  Hart,"  (great  applause.)  Song 
from  Jerry  Hawthorn — "  The  King  of  the 
Cannibal  Islands."  The  chairman  then 
called  upon  the  company  to  fill  their 
glasses  to  a  toast  upon  which  there  could 
be  no  difference  or  opinion.  "  It  was  a 
sport  which  they  all  enjoyed,  one  that 
was  delightful  to  the  old  and  to  the  young, 
to  the  peer  and  to  the  peasant,  and  open 
to  all.  Whatever  might  be  the  merits  of 
other  amusements,  he  had  never  yet  met 
any  man  with  the  hardihood  to  deny  that 
racing  was  at  once  the  noblest  and  most 
legitimate,"  loud  cheers,  and  thumps  on 
the  table,  that  set  all  the  glasses  dancing 
— "  not  only  was  it  the  noblest  and  most 
legitimate,  but  it  was  the  most  profitable, 
and  where  was  the  man  of  high  and  honor- 
able principle  who  did  not  feel  when 
breathing  the  pure  atmosphere  of  that 
Heath,  a  lofty  self-satisfaction  at  the 
thought,  that  though  he  might  have  left 
those  who  were  near  and  dear  to  him  in  a 
less  genial  atmosphere,  still  he  was  not 
selfishly  enjoying  himself,  without  a 
thought  for  their  welfare ;  for  racing, 
while  it  brought  health  and  vigor  to  the 
father,  also  brought  what  was  dearer  to 
the  mind  of  a  parent — the  means  of  pro- 
moting the  happiness  and  prosperity  of 
his  family — (immense  cheers.)  With  these 
few  observations  he  should  simply  propose 
'  the  Turf,'  and  may  we  long  be  above  it;" 
(applause,  and  on  the  motion  of  Mr. 
Spring,  three  cheers  for  Mrs.  Badchild 
and  all  the  little  Badchildren  were  called 
for  and  given.)  When  the  noise  had  sub- 
sided, Mr.  Jprrocks  very  deliberately  got 
up,  amid  whispers  and  inquiries  as  to  who 
he  was.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  with  an 
indignant  stare,  and  a  thump  on  the  table, 
"  Gentlemen,  I  say,  in  much  of  what  has 
fallen  from  our  worthv  chairman,  I  go-in- 
sides,  save  in  what  he  says  about  racing 
— I  insists  that  'unting  is  the  sport  of 
sports,"  immense  laughter,  and  cries  of 
"  wot  an  old  fool ! ''  "  Gentlemen  may 
laugh,  but  I  say  it's  a  fact,  and  though  I 
doesn't  wish  to  create  no  displeasancy 
whatsomever,  yet  I  should  despise  myself 
most  confoundedly — should  consider  my- 
self unworthy  of  the  great  and  dis- 
tinguished 'unt  to  which  I  have  the  honor 
to  belong,  if  I  sat  quietly  down  without 


sticking  up  for  the  Chase  (laughter) — I 
say  it's  one  of  the  balances  of  the  Consti- 
tution !  (laughter) — I  say  it's  the  sport 
of  kings !  the  image  of  war  without  its 
guilt!  (hisses  and  immense  laughter.)  He 
would  fearlessly  propose  a  bumper  toast 
— he  would  give  them  "  Fox-hunting.' " 
There  was  some  demur  about  drinking  it, 
but  on  the  interposition  of  Sam  Spring 
who  assured  the  company  that  Jorrocks 
was  one  of  the  right  sort,  and  with  an  ad- 
dition proposed  by  Jerry  Hawthorn,  which 
made  the  toast  more  comprehensible,  they 
swallowed  it,  and  the  chairman  followed 
it  up  with  "  The  Sod," — which  was  drunk 
with  great  applause.  Mr.  Cox  of  Blue 
Hammerton  returned  thanks.  "  He  con- 
sidered cock-fighting  the  finest  of  all  fine 
amusements.  Nothing  could  equal  the 
rush  between  two  prime  grey-hackles — 
that  was  his  color.  The  chairman  had 
said  a  vast  for  racing,  and  to  cut  the 
matter  short,  he  might  observe  that  cock- 
fighting  combined  all  the  advantages  of 
making  money,  with  the  additional  benefit 
of  not  being  interfered  with  by  the  weather. 
He  begged  to  return  his  best  thanks  for 
himself  and  brother  sods,  and  only  re- 
gretted he  had  not  been  taught  speaking 
m  his  youth,  or  he  would  certainly  have 
convinced  them  all,  that 'Cocking'  was 
the  sport."  "  Coursing  "  was  the  next 
toast — for  which  Arthur  Purvis,  the  jockey, 
returned  thanks.  "He  was  very  fond  of 
the  '  long  dogs '  and  thought,  after  racing, 
coursing  was  the  true  thing.  He  was  no 
orator,  and  so  he  drank  off  his  wine  to  the 
health  of  the  company."  "  Steeple  chas- 
ing "  followed,  for  which  Mr.  Coalman  of 
St.  Albans  returned  thanks,  assuring  the 
company  that  it  answered  his  purpose  re- 
markably well ;  then  the  Vice  gave  the 
Chair,  and  the  Chair  gave  the  Vice,  and 
by  way  of  a  finale,  Mr.  Badchild  proposed 
the  game  of  Chicken-hazard,  observing  in 
a  whisper  to  Mr.  Jorrocks  that  perhaps  he 
would  like  to  subscribe  to  a  joint  stock 
purse1  for  the  purpose  of  going  to  hell. 
To  which  Mr.  Jorrocks,  with  great  gravity 
replied— "Sir,  I'm  d d  if  I  do." 


1  It  is  common  for  parties  to  club  tbeir  money  and 
appoint  one  of  their  body  to  play  tbe  game. 


100 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


JORROCKS'  HUNT. 

Mr.  Jorrocks,  having  made  his  fortune  as  a  grocer, 
accepts  the  mastership  of  the  Handley  Cross  Fox 
Hounds,  partially  retires  from  business,  and,  on  a  visit 
from  Charley  Stubbs,  his  young  Yorkshire  friend,  (who 
is  now  the  accepted  lover  of  Jorrocks's  niece,  Belinda,) 
they  have  a  quiet  day's  hunt,  with  the  following  re- 
sult. 

"  'Ow  are  ye,  my  lad  o'  wax  ?"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Jorrocks,  bouncing  out  in 
his  sky-blue  dressing-gown  and  slippers, 
as  Charley  Stubbs  appeared  at  the  gar- 
den gate. 

"  Delighted  to  see  you ! ''  continued  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  wringing  his  hand,  and  hop- 
ping about  on  one  leg ;  "  most  'appy  in- 
deed I  Bed  for  yourself,  stable  for  your 
'oss ;  all  snug  and  comfey,  in  fact.  Bin- 
jimin  ! — I  say,  Binjimin  !  " 

"  Coming,  sir ! — coming !"  replied  the 
boy,  setting  himself  into  a  fustian  coat. 

"Take  this 'ere 'oss  to  the  stable,  and 
bid  Pigg  treat  him  as  one  of  'is  own — 
warm  stall,  thick  blanket,  lots  o'  straw, 
and  crushed  corn  without  end.  Now, 
come  in,"  said  he  to  Stubbs,  "and  get 
some  grub  ;  and  let's  'ear  all  about  it." 

Pretty  Belinda  took  Charles's  proffered 
hand  with  a  blush,  and  Mrs.  Jorrocks  re- 
entered  the  room  in  a  clean  cap  and  collar 
just  as  the  trio  were  settling  into  seats. 
What  a  burst  of  inquiries  followed ! 

"  'Ow's  the  dad  ?"  asked  Mr.  Jorrocks. 

"  'Ow  did  you  come  ?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Jorrocks. 

"  How  is  your  sister  ?"  half  whispered 
Belinda. 

"  Where  have  you  been  since  we  last 
saw  you  ?"  was  demanded  before  Stubbs 
had  answered  any  of  the  preceding,  and 
a  great  cry  of  conversation  was  got  up. 

In  the  evening  Mr.  Jorrocks  celebrated 
the  event  with  a  couple  of  bottles  of  fine 
fruity  port,  and  a  night-cap  of  the  usual 
beverage — "  B.  and  W.,"  as  he  briefly 
designated  his  brandy  and  water. 
*  *#*  ###  * 

Our  master  took  a  cooling  draught — a 
couple  of  Seidlitz  powders — the  next 
morning,  intending  to  "  lie  at  earth  "  as  he 
eaid,  and  was  later  than  usual  in  getting 
down  stairs.  Stubbs  improved  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  got  sixteen  kisses  of  Belinda, 
according  to  Ben's  reckoning,  who  was 


listening  outside,  ere  Mrs.  Jorrocks  made 
her  appearance  either.  A  voluminous 
correspondence — a  week's  St.  Botolph's- 
lane  letters,  and  many  private  ones,  some 
about  hounds,  some  about  horses,  awaited 
our  master's  descent.  The  first  he  opened 
was  from  his  old  friend,  Dick  Bragg : — 


"  Dear  Mr.  J., 


"  London  : 


"Though  I  fear  it  may  involve  a 
charge  of  fickleness,  I  feel  it  due  to  my- 
self to  make  the  following  communica- 
tion : — 

"  The  fact  of  my  having  offered  my 
services  to  you  having  transpired,  I  have 
been  so  persecuted  with  remonstrances 
from  those  whose  judgment  and  good 
opinion  I  value,  and  representations  of 
the  impolicy  of  accepting  office,  other 
than  in  similar  administrations  to  those  I 
have  heretofore  co-operated  with,  that  I 
really  have  no  alternative  but  most  re- 
spectfully to  request  that  you  will  allow 
me  to  withdraw  my  previous  communica- 
tion. It  is,  I  assure  you,  with  great  re- 
luctance that  I  make  the  announcement, 
knowing,  as  I  do,  by  sad  experience,  the 
difficulty  there  is  in  obtaining  talent  even 
under  the  most  favourable  circumstances, 
let  alone  in  the  middle  of  a  season,  when 
everybody  worth  having  is  taken  up ;  but 
it  is  one  of  those  casualties  that  cannot 
be  helped,  and,  in  making  this  communi- 
cation, allow  me  to  assure  you,  sir,  that  I 
shall  always  speak  of  you  with  respect, 
sir — yes,  sir,  I  shall  always  speak  or  you 
with  respect,  sir,  and  esteem  you,  sir,  as 
an  upright  gentleman  and  a  downright 
fox-hunter.  Allow  me  to  subscribe  my- 
self, Yours  very  faithfully, 

"RICHARD  BKAGG. 

"  To Jorrocks,  Esq., 

"  Handley  Cross." 

"Ah I  Rich.  Bragg,  indeed!"  grunted 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  when  he  read  it,  "  you  must 
think  I've  a  deal  more  o'  the  Michaelmas 
bird  i'  me  than  I  'ave,  'to  believe  you 
wrote  this  afore  you  got  my  letter.  There. 
Batsay,"  said  he,  as  the  handsome  maid 
now  entered  with  the  hissing  urn,  "  take 
that,"  handing  it  to  her,  "  and  make  curl- 
papers on 't,  and  don't  you  be  so  'eavy  on 
my  witey-brown." 

The  next  letter  he  selected  was  from 
Mr.  Bowker. 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


301 


"Lincoln's  Inn,  London. 

"Dear  Sir: — On  calling  to  pay  the 
1  Life  '  for  your  advertisement  of  'A  hunt- 
ing man  wanted,'  he  expressed  a  wish  for 
you  to  contribute  information  respecting 
the  sport  with  your  hounds  ;  and,  know- 
ing I  had  the  honor  of  your  acquain- 
tance, he  wished  me  to  sound  you  on  the 
subject.  He  says  he  gets  lots  of  pot- 
house accounts  of  stag,  and  bag  fox- 
hunting, with  harriers,  and  such  like 
rubbish ;  but  what  he  wants  is  real  sport- 
ing accounts  of  runs  with  superior  estab- 
lishments like  yours.  An  editor,  you 
know,  can't  be  everywhere,  or  he  would 
like  to  have  a  horse  in  every  hunt  in  the 
kingdom ;  but  he  says  if  you  would  have 
the  kindness  to  furnish  off-hand  accounts, 
he  would  spice  them  up  with  learning 
and  Latin.  He  has  '  Moore's  Dictionary 
of  Quotations,'  and  can  come  the  classical 
quite  as  strong  as  the  great  Mr.  Pompon  - 
ius,  Esq.,  whom  they  reckon  the  top- 
sawyer  in  that  line.  Some  gentlemen, 
'  The  Life  '  says,  send  their  accounts  to  a 
third  party,  to  be  copied  and  forwarded 
as  from  an  indifferent  person  ;  but  that 
consumes  time  without  answering  a  good 
end,  as  the  utmost  secrecy  may  be  relied 
upon,  and  '  The  Life  '  is  most  particular 
in  combing  them  into  Euglish.  In  short, 
gentlemen  unaccustomed  to  public  writ- 
ing may  forward  their  accounts  to  him 
with  perfect  confidence. 

"  You  will  be  sorry  to  hear  the  Slen- 
der is  in  trouble.  He  had  long  been 
suspected  of  certain  spiritual  runnings  in 
the  shape  of  an  illicit  still,  at  the  back  of 
his  horse-slaughtering  premises  in  Co- 
penhagen Fields,  and  au  exciseman  was 
despatched  last  Thursday  to  watch,  and, 
if  necessary,  take  him.  Somehow  or 
other  the  exciseman  has  never  cast  up 
again,  and  poor  Billy  has  been  taken  up 
on  suspicion  of  having  sent  him  to  '  that 
bourne  from  whence  no  traveller  returns.' 
I  hope  he  has  not,  but  time  will  show. 

"  Susan  Slummers  has  cut  the  Cobourg, 
and  got  engaged  at  Sadlers'  Wells,  under 
the  name  of  Clarissa  Howard.  I  said  if 
she  was  choosing  a  name,  she  might  as 
well  take  a  good  one :  she  is  to  do  genteel 
comedy,  and  is  not  to  be  called  upon  to 
paint  black  or  wear  tights.  Her  legs 
have  got  rather  gummy  of  late,  from  too 
constant  strain  on  the  sinews,  and  the 
manager  wanted  to  reduce  her  salary, 
and  Susan  kicked  in  consequence;  and 


this  reminds  me  that  I  have  seen  a  blister 
in  your  stable — James's  or  Jones's,  I  for- 
get which — that  your  groom,  Benjamin, 
told  me  you  applied  to  horses'  legs  when 
they  are  enlarged.  Might  I  take  the 
liberty  of  asking  if  you  think  it  would 
be  beneficially  applied  in  this  case  ? 

As  I  presume  from  a  letter  I  had  from 
Mr.  Stubbs  the  other  day  that  he  will  be 
with  you  by  this  time,  perhaps  you  will 
have  the  kindness  to  inform  him  that 
Mrs.  B.  will  send  his  "baccy"  by  the 
early  train  to-morrow,  along  with  your 
Seidlitz  powders,  so  as  to  make  one  parcel 
do.  Old  Twist's  business  is  sadly  fallen 
off — my  fees  have  diminished  a  third — 
though  my  twist  hasn't.  We  have  only 
half  the  number  of  pupils  we  had.  That, 
however,  makes  no  difference  to  me,  as  I 
never  got  anything  from  them  but  sauce. 
I  hope  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jorrocks  are  enjoy- 
ing the  pure  air  of  Handley  Cross.  We 
are  enjoying  a  dense  yellow  fog  here — so 
thick  and  so  damp,  that  the  gas-lights, 
which  have  been  burning  all  day,  are 
hardly  visible ;  I  tripped  over  a  child  at 
the  corner  of  Chancery  Lane,  and  pitched 
headforemost  into  an  old  chestnut-wo- 
man's roasting  oven. 

"  By  the  way,  I  read  an  advertisement 
in  a  north  country  paper  the  other  day  of 
'  the  eatage  of  the  fog  in  a  park  to  let.' 
I  wish  some  one  would  take  the  eatage  of 
it  here;  he'd  get  a  good  bellyful,  I'm 
sure.  Adieu.  Excuse  haste  and  a  bad 
pen,  as  the  pig  said  when  he  ran  away 
from  the  butcher ;  and  believe  me  to  re- 
main, 

"Dear  Sir, 
"  Yours  most  respectfully, 

"WM.  BOWKER. 

"To  JOHN  JORROCKS,  ESQ., 

"MASTER  or  FOX-HOUNDS,  &c.,  &c., 
"  HANDLEY  CROSS  SPA." 

Then  before  Mr.  Jorrocks  got  half 
through  his  city  letters  and  made  his 
pencil  observations  thereupon — who  to  do 
business  with,  whose  respectability  to  in- 
quire into,  who  to  dun,  who  to  decline 
dealing  with,  the  gossiping  Handley 
Cross  Paul  Pry,  with  its  list  of  arrivals, 
fashionable  millinery,  dental  surgery  ad- 
vertisements, &c.,  having  passed  the  or- 
deal of  the  kitchen,  made  its  appearance 
with  the  following  important  announce- 
ment : — 


502 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


"THE  HANDLEY  CROSS  (MR.  JOR- 
ROCKS'S) Fox  HOUNDS 

"  Will  meet  on  Wednesday  at  the 
Bound  of  Beef  and  Carrots,  Apple-door- 
road,  and  on  Saturday  at  the  Mountain 
Daisy,  near  Hockey's  Hutch,  each  day  at 
ten  o'clock. 

"  N.  B.  These  hounds  will  hunt  Mon- 
days and  Fridays,  with  an  occasional  bye 
on  the  Wednesdays  in  future." 

"  Why,  your'e  advertising,  I  see  !  "  ex- 
claimed Charley,  on  reading  the  above. 

"  I  am/'  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks,  with  a 
grin,  "  comin'  it  strong,  ain't  I?  " 

"  Very,''  replied  Stubbs,  "  three  days  a 
week— will  want  a  good  many  horses  for 
that." 

"  O,  I  sha'n't  be  much  troubled  on  the 
Wednesdays,"  rejoined  Mr.  Jorrocks; 
"shall  jest  make  that  long  or  short  'cord- 
in'  as  it  suits." 

"  But  you'll  go  out  I  s'pose,"  observed 
Stubbs. 

"In  course,"  replied  Jorrocks.  "In 
course — only  I  shall  go  out  at  my  own 
hour — may  be  height,  may  be  sivin,  may 
be  as  soon  as  we  can  see.  Not  many  o' 
these  waterin'  place  birds  that'll  get  hup 
for  an  'unt,  only  ye  see  as  I  wants  their 
money,  I  must  give  them  value  received 
— or  summut  like  it ;  but  there's  nothing 
like  the  mornin'  for  makin'  the  foxes  cry 
'  Capevi  I '  added  he,  with  a  grin  of  de- 
light." 

"  Nothing,"  assented  Stubbs. 

"  We'll  'ave  some  rare  chiveys  ?"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Jorrocks,  his  eyes  glistening 
as  he  spoke. 

"Hope  so,"  replied  Stubbs,  adding, 
"  let's  give  them  a  trot  out  to-day." 

"  To-day,"  mused  our  master — "  to- 
day," repeated  he,  thrusting  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets,  and  then  taking  a 
dry  shave  of  his  chin — "  couldn't  well  go 
out  to-day.  To-morrow  if  you  like — 
got  a  lot  o'  letters  to  write  and  things  to 
do — not  quite  right  nouther — feel  as  if  I'd 
eat  a  hat  or  a  pair  o'  worsted  stockins." 

"  To-morrow  will  be  too  near  your 
regular  day,"  observed  Stubbs. 

"  Ah,  true,  so  it  would,"  assented  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  thinking  he  must  attend  to  ap- 
pearances at  first,  at  all  events. 

"  Better  give  them  a  round  to-day," 
continued  Stubbs,  returning  to  his  point. 

"  Not  prepared,"  mused  Jorrocks — 
"  not  prepared.  Pigg  hasn't  got  himself 
'fettled  oop '  yet,  as  he  calls  it." 


"  Oh  yes  he  has,"  replied  Stubbs — "  saw 
him  trying  on  his  tops  as  I  came  down 
stairs,  and  his  red  coat  and  waistcoat  were 
lying  on  the  kitchen  table." 

"Indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks,  "won- 
der 'ow  he  looks  in  'em.  Only  a  hugly 
beggar  out  on  'em." 

"He's  a  varmint  looking  chap,"  ob- 
served Stubbs. 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  assented  Mr.  Jorrocks ; 
"  'ope  he's  keen." 

"How's  Ben  off  that  way?"  asked 
Stubbs. 

"  Oh,  Bin's  a  fine  bouy,"  observed  Jor- 
rocks, "  and  I  makes  no  doubt  'ill  train 
on.  Borne  wasn't  built  in  a  day,  Con- 
stantinople nouther." 

"Certainly  not,"  assented  Stubbs, 
thinking  if  Ben  made  a  sportsman  he 
was  very  much  mistaken. 

After  a  vigorous  attack  upon  the  muf- 
fins, kidneys,  fried  ham,  marmalade,  and 
other  good  things  adorning  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks's  breakfast  table,  our  Yorkshire 
friend  again  tried  to  draw  the  great  M.  F. 
H.  for  a  day. 

"  Couldn't  we  give  the  'ounds  a  trot  out 
by  way  of  exercise,  think  ye  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Don't  know,'1  grunted  Jorrocks  from 
the  bottom  of  his  coffee-cup.  "  Wot 
good  would  that  do  ?  " 

"  Make  'em  handy,"  replied  Stubbs. 

"  'Andy  enough,''  replied  our  master, 
bolting  a  large  piece  of  muffin,  "  'Andy  as 
ladies'  maids.  Can  do  everything  'cept 
pay  their  own  pikes.1' 

Despite  this  confident  assertion,  Stubbs 
still  stuck  to  him.  First  he  proposed  that 
Pigg  and  he  should  take  the  hounds  out 
together.  This  Jorrocks  wouldn't  stand. 
"Be  sure  to  get  into  mischief."  Then 
Stubbs  thought  it  would  do  Jorrocks  a 
vast  deal  of  good  to  have  a  bump  on  one 
of  his  great  rough  horses.  Our  master 
couldn't  quite  gainsay  this,  though  he  did 
look  out  of  the  window,  observing  that 
he  thought  it  would  rain,  and  he 
shouldn't  like  to  get  wet. 

"  Oh,  it  'ill  not  rain,"  replied  Stubbs— 
"  not  till  night  at  least,"  added  he  confi- 
dently. • 

"  Don't  know  that,"  grunted  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks ;  u  Gabey  seems  to  be  of  a  different 
'pinion,"  added  he,  as  the  noble  old  pea- 
cock emerged  from  under  a  sun-bright 
Portugal  laurel,  and  stretching  his  neck, 
and  flapping  his  wings,  uttered  a  wi'd, 
piercing  scream. 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


303 


"  Dash  my  vig,  but  that  looks  like  it  I " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocka,  adding,  as  he 
caught  up  his  right  foot  with  a  shake  of 
his  head,  "  Gabriel  Junks  is  seldom 
wrong,  and  my  corns  are  on  his  side.1' 

Still  Stubbs  persevered,  and,  by  dint  of 
agitation,  at  length  succeeded  in  getting 
Jorrocks  not  only  to  go  out,  but  to  have  a 
draw  in  Newtimber  Forest,  Stubbs  ob- 
serving, and  Jorrocks  assenting  that  there 
would  be  very  little  more  trouble  in  run- 
ning the  hounds  through  the  cover  than 
in  trotting  them  along  the  road.  And, 
with  some  misgivings,  Jorrocks  let  Stubbs 
go  to  make  the  arrangements,  while  he 
applied  himself  vigorously  to  his  letters. 


A  QUIET   BYE. 

Pigg  was  all  eager  for  the  fray,  and 
readily  came  intoStubbs'ssuggestion,  that  ! 
they  should  go  out,  and  just  take  their  ! 
chance  of  finding  a  fox,  and  of  his  going 
to  ground  or  not  as  luck  and  his  courage 
served. 

"  Ar'll  gan  to'ard   Duncan's,   and  get  i 
his  grey  for  wor  Ben,''  said  Pigg,  "  gin 
ye'll  set  the  lad  on  the  saddle  the  rest;  " 
adding,  •'  the  Squi-er  ar's  warned  'ill  ride  | 
Arterxerxes." 

Off  the  Pigg  went  to  Duncan  Nevins,  I 
and  returned  with  a  woebegone  looking 
horse  in  a  halter,  before  Stubbs  had  made  ! 
any  progress  in  his  department.     Ben  was  ; 
not  to  be  found.     Neither  at  Mrs.  Candy,  i 
the  tart- woman's,  nor  at  Mrs.  Biffin's  ap-  \ 
pie-stall,  nor  at  Strap  the  saddler's,  nor  at 
any  of  the  usual  haunts,  was  anything  to  i 
be  heard  of  the  boy.    The  fact  was,  he  i 
had  been  unable  to  resist  a  ride  at  the 
back  of  a  return  chaise  passing  along  Ju- 
niper street,    and   being   caught  by  his  ! 
apron   in  the  spikes,  had   been   carried  j 
nearly  to  Copse  Field  before  he  got  him- 
self disentangled. 

The  oracle  Gabriel  having  continued 
his  monitions,  Mr  Jorrocks  thought  to 
make  the  absence  of  the  boy  an  excuse 
for  not  going,  but  now  having  both  Stubbs 
and  Pigg  ranged  against  him,  he  was 
soon  driven  from  the  attempt.  Pigg  said 
"  Squi-er  Stubbs  wad  do  quite  as  weal  as 
Ben,"  and  Jorrocks,  little  loth  at  heart, 
perhaps,  at  length  hoisted  himself  on  to 
Arterxerxes  with  a  swag  that  would  have 
sent  a  light-carcassed  horse  over,  letting 
the  now  smartly-clad  Pigg  ride  the  re- 
doubtable Xerxes.  So  with  Stubbs  in 


front,  Jorrocks  with  the  hounds,  and  Pigg 
behind,  they  set  off  at  a  gentle  trot,  tell- 
ing the  inquirers  that  they  were  only 
going  to  exercise,  a  delusion  that  Mr. 
Jorrocks's  hat  seemed  to  favor. 

Bump,  bump,— jog,  jog, — on  they  went, 
Mr.  Jorrocks  now  chiding,  now  coaxing, 
now  dropping  an  observation  fore  or  aft, 
now  looking  at  the  sky,  and  now  at  his 
watch. 

"  Des  say  we  shall  find  pretty  soon," 
observed  Mr.  Jorrocks,  "  for  they  tells  me 
the  cover  has  not  been  disturbed  this  long 
time,  and  there's  lots  of  lyin' — nice,  and 
dry,  and  warm — foxes  like  damp  beds  as 
little  as  Christians.  Uncommon  pretty 
betch,  that  Barbara, — like  Bravery  as  two 
peas, — by  Billin'sgate  out  o'  Benedict,  I 
think.  'Opes  we  may  get  blood  ;  it'll  do 
them  a  deal  o'  good,  and  make  them 
steady  for  the  Beef  and  Carrots.  When 
we  gets  the  'ounds  all  on  the  square,  we 
'ill  'ave  the  great  Mr.  Pomponious  Hego 
to  come  and  give  us  a  good  hoiling. 
Nothin'  like  soap. 

"  Hooi !  you  chap  with  the  turnip- 
cart  I "  now  roared  our  master  to  a  cart- 
man  coming  up ;  "  vot  do  you  mean  by 
stickin'  your  great  ugly  wehicle  right 
afore  my  'ounds  ! — Mr.  Jorrocks's  'ounds, 
in  fact !  I'll  skin  ye  alive  1 "  added  he, 
looking  at  the  man,  who  stood  staring 
with  astonishment.  And  again  they  went, 
bump,  bump,  jog,  jog,  at  that  pleasant 
post-boy  pace,  that  has  roused  the  bile  of 
so  many  sportsmen,  and  set  so  many 
riders  fighting  with  their  horses. 

At  length  they  reached  the  cover  side, 
— a  long  wood  stretching  up  the  sides  of 
a  gently  sloping  hill,  and  widening  to- 
wards the  summit.  On  the  crown  there 
stood  a  clump  of  Scotch  firs  and  hollies, 
forming  a  landmark  for  many  miles 
round.  Turning  from  the  high-road  into 
a  grass  field  on  the  right,  the  party 
pulled  up  to  reconnoitre  the  ground,  and 
make  their  final  arrangements. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Jorrocks,  standing 
erect  in  his  stirrups,  and  pointing  with 
his  whip,  which  had  the  effect  of  making 
half  the  pack  break  towards  the  cover, — 
"Now,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  got 
them  turned,  "  this  is  a  good  big  wood, — 
two  'undred  acres  or  more — and  they  tells 
me  the  foxes  generally  lie  on  the  risin' 
ground,  towards  the  clump.  The  vind's 
north-vest,  so  if  we  puts  hin  at  this  point, 
we  shall  draw  up  it,  and  p'rhaps  get  close 


304 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


to  the  warmint  at  startin',  which  is  a 
grand  thing;  but,  hpwsomever,  let's  be 
doin'.  Draw  your  girths,  Pigg,  or  your 
'oss  '11  slip  through  his  saddle.  Now  ob- 
serve, there  are  three  rides — one  on  each 
side,  one  on  hup  the  middle,  all  leadin'  to 
the  clump ;  and  there  are  cross  ones  in 
all  directions ;  so  no  man  need  be  'fraid 
o'  losin'  himself.  Now  let's  put  in.  Pigg, 
open  the  wicket." 

"  It's  locked,"  observed  Pigg,  running 
the  hammer  of  his  whip  into  the  rails, 
throwing  himself  off  his  horse  and  pull- 
ing a  great  clasp-knife  out  of  his  pocket 
as  he  spoke.  "  Sink,  but  it  aye  gars  mar 
knife  laugh  to  see  a  lock  put  upon  lea- 
ther," added  he,  as  he  drew  the  huge 
blade  across  the  stiff  band  that  secured 
the  gate.  Open  flew  the  wicket — in  went 
the  pack  with  a  dash,  a  crash,  and  a  little 
music  from  the  riotous  ones,  which  grad- 
ually yielded  to  "Have  a  care!"  and 
"  Gently,  Wenus ; "  Gently,  Lousey ;  " 
(Louisa),  with  the  cracks  of  the  whips  of 
Mr.  Jorrocks  and  his  huntsman. 

"  Now,  Pigg,  my  frind,  let's  have  a 
touch  o'  north  country  science,"  observed 
Mr,  Jorrocks,  bringing  his  horse  along- 
side of  his  huntsman.  "I'd  like  well 
to  kill  a  fox  to-day  ;  I'd  praise  you  very 
much  if  we  did." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  Pigg.  "  Hoic  in, 
Lousey  1  Solid  puddin's  better  nor  empty 
praise.  Have  at  him  there,  Statesman, 
old  boy, — ye  look  like  a  finder.  Deil  bon 
me,  but  ar  thought  ar  winded  him  at  the 
crossin'  there,"  added  Pigg,  pulling  his 
horse  short  back  to  a  cross  ride  he  had 
just  passed.  "  Hoic  in  there,  Priestess, 
ould  gal,"  said  he,  to  an  old  black  and 
white  bitch,  feathering  round  some  gorse 
among  the  underwood,  waving  his  hand 
as  he  spoke.  "  That's  gospel,  ar  warrant 
ye,"  continued  he,  watching  her  move- 
ments. 

"  What  will't  take  for  t'ard  nag  ?  "  in- 
quired Pigg,  of  a  besom-rnaker,  who  now 
came  down  the  ride  with  a  wretched  white 
Eosinante,  laden  with  stolen  brushwood. 
"Have  at  him,  there,  Challenger!" 
speaking  to  a  hound. 

"  Twenty  shillin',"  replied  the  man. 

"  Gie  ye  eight ! "  was  the  answer. 
"  Yooi,  push  him  up  !  "  to  the  hound. 

"  Tak'  twelve,"  rejoined  the  tinker. 
*  Good  hor?e — can  get  up  of  hisself,  top 
puller  and  all !  " 

"  Aye,  but  we  dinna  want  him  to  poole ; 


we  want  him  to  eat,"  replied  Pigg.  "  Had 
still  I "  exclaimed  he  ;  "  ar  has  him  ! — 
TALLY  Ho  I "  roared  Pigg,  cramming  his 
spurs  into  his  horse,  and  dashing  past  Jor- 
rocks like  a  shot.  Out  went  both  horns 
— twang — twang — twang  sounded  Pigg's ; 
wow !  wow !  wow  I  went  Jorrocks's,  in 
deeper  and  more  substantial  notes,  and  in 
a  very  short  time  the  body  of  the  pack 
were  laid  on  the  scent,  and  opened  the 
concert  with  an  overpowering  burst  of 
melody. 

"Oh,  beautiful!  beautiful  I"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  in  rapture,  as  each  hound 
put  his  nose  to  the  ground,  and  acknow- 
ledged the  correctness  of  the  scent.  "  Oh, 
beautiful  indeed ! "  added  he,  thumping 
the  end  of  his  horn  upon  his  thigh,  as 
though  he  were  cutting  large  gun-wad- 
dings out  of  his  breeches.  "  'Ow  true  to 
the  line !  best  'ounds  in  England  by  far 
— never  were  such  a  pack  !  Shall  have  a 
rare  Chevy — all  alone  to  ourselves ;  and 
when  I  gets  home  I'll  write  an  account  to 
'  Bell's  Life,'  and  '  The  Field,'  which  no- 
body can  contradict.  Hark  forrard  !  hark 
forrard  !  hark  forrard  !  away !  "  continued 
he,  ramming  the  spurs  into  Arterxerxes's 
sides,  to  induce  him  to  change  his  lum- 
bering trot  into  a  canter,  which  having 
accomplished,  Mr.  Jorrocks  settled  him- 
self into  a  regular  home  seat  in  his  sad- 
dle, and  pounded  up  a  grass  ride  through 
the  centre  of  the  wood  in  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  delight,  as  the  hounds  worked  their 
way  a  little  to  his  right  with  a  full  and 
melodious  cry. 

"Hould  hard,  ye  sackless  ould  sin- 
ner !  "  now  cried  Pigg,  crossing  the  main 
ride  at  a  canter,  and  nearly  knocking 
Jorrocks  off  his  horse,  as  he  charged  him 
in  his  stride.  "  Had  (hold)  bye,  ar  say  I  " 
he  roared  in  his  master's  ear,  "  or  ar'll  be 
dingin'  on  ye  down — fox  crossed  reet  in 
onder  husse's  tail,  and  thou  sits  glowerin' 
there  and  never  see'd  him." 

Out  went  both  the  horns  again — twang  I 
twang  ! — twang ;  wow  !  wow  !  wow ! 

"  Hark  together  !  hark  !  get  forrard, 
hounds,  get  forrard  !  "  cried  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
cracking  his  ponderous  whip  at  some  lin- 
gerers that  loitered  on  the  ride,  question- 
ing the  correctness  of  their  comrades'  cry. 
"  Get  forrard,  I  say  ! "  repeated  he,  with 
redoubled  energy.  "  Confound  your  un- 
believin'  souls !  "  added  he,  as  they  went 
to  cry.  "  Now  they  are  all  on  him  again  ! 
Oh,  beautiful,  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


305 


Jorrocks,  »n  ecstacies.  "  I'll  lay  five 
pounds  to  a  fiddler's  farthin'  they  kill 
him.  Mischief  in  their  cry ! — a  rare 
scent— can  wind  him  myself." 

So  saying,  he  gathered  up  his  reins 
again,  thrust  his  feet  home  in  the  stirrups, 
crammed  the  spurs  into  his  horse,  and 
rolled  back  on  the  ride  he  had  just  come 
up.  "  Hark  !  "  now  cried  our  master, 
pulling  up  short  and  holding  his  hand  in 
the  air,  as  though  he  had  a  hundred  and 
fifty  horsemen  at  his  tail  to  check  in  their 
career.  "  Hark  !  "  again  he  exclaimed ; 
"  whoay,  'oss,  whoay !  "  trying  to  get 
Arterxerxes  to  "stand  still  and  let  him  lis- 
ten. "  Now,  fool,  vot  are  you  champing 
the  bit  for  ? — whoay,  I  say  !  He's  turned 
short  again  !  Hoick  back  !  Hoick  back  ! 
They've  overrun  the  scent,"  continued  he, 
listening,  as  the  chorus  gradually  died 
out ;  "  or,1'  added  he,  "  he  may  have  got 
to  ground." 

"  Tally  ho  ! "  now  screamed  Jorrocks, 
as  a  magnificent  fellow  in  a  spotless  suit 
of  ruddy  fur  crossed  the  ride  before  him 
at  a  quiet,  stealing,  listening  sort  of  pace, 
and  gave  a  whisk  of  his  well-tagged  brush 
on  entering  the  copse-wood  across. 
"  Hoop  !  hoop  !  hoop !  hoop  !  "  roared  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  putting  his  finger  in  his  ear, 
and  halloaing  as  loud  as  ever  as  he  could 
shout ;  and  just  as  he  got  his  horn  fum- 
bled past  the  guard,  Dexterous,  Affable 
*nd  Mercury  dashed  across  the  ride,  lash- 
ing their  sterns  and  bristling  for  blood, 
and  Pigg  appeared  a  little  below  cantering 
along  with  the  rest  of  the  pack  at  his 
horse's  heels.  "  Here,  Pigg !  there, 
Pigg!"  roared  Mr.  Jorrocks;  "just  by 
the  old  hoak-stump.  Gently  now !  ah, 
ware  'eel — that's  not  the  vay  of  him  ;  he's 
hover  to  the  left,  I  tells  ye.  That's  him  I 
Mercury  has  him.  Hoick  to  Mercury, 
hoick !  get  away,  get  away,  get  away, 
'ounds !  hoick  together  !  hoick  together ! 
Oh,  Pigg,  wot  a  wopper  he  is  !  "  observed 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  as  Pigg  joined  him  in  the 
ride.  "The  biggest  fox  whatever  was 
seen — if  we  do  but  kill  him — my  vig!  I'll 
eat  his  tongue  for  supper.  Have  it  grilled, 
'  cum  grano  sails,"  with  a  lee-tie  Cayenne 
pepper,  as  Pomponious  Hego  would  say." 
Aye,'1  replied  Pigg,  grinning  with  de- 
light, his  cap-peak  in  the  air  and  the 
tobacco-juice  streaming  down  his  mouth 
like  a  Chinese  mandarin.  "Ar'll  be  the 
death  of  a  shillin'  mysel' !  "  Saying  which 
he  hustled  his  horse  and  turned  to  his 
hounds. 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


Away  they  go  again  full  cry  across  the 
cover  to  the  utmost  limits,  and  then  back 
again  to  the  far  side.  Now  the  fox  takes 
a  full  swing  round,  but  won't  quit — now 
he  cuts  across — now  Mr.  Jorrocks  views 
him,  and  swears  he'll  have  his  brains  as 
well  as  his  tongue  for  supper.  Pigg  has 
been  next,  and  again  comes  Mr.  Jorrocks's 
turn.  "  Dash  my  vig,  but  he's  a  tough 
'un  !  "  observed  Mr.  Jorrocks  to  James 
Pigg,  as  they  met  again  on  the  rising 
ground  at  the  top  of  the  ride,  where  Mr. 
Jorrocks  had  been  fifteen  times  and  Pigg 
seventeen,  both  their  horses  streaming 
with  perspiration,  and  the  blue  and  yellow 
worsted  fronts  of  the  bridles  embossed 
with  foam.  "  Dash  my  vig,  but  it's  a 
million  and  a  half  of  petties,"  continued 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  looking  at  his  watch,  and 
seeing  it  wanted  but  twenty  minutes  to 
four,  that  we  adwertised,  for  there's  a 
wast  o'  go  left  in  him  yet,  and  he'll  take 
the  shine  out  of  some  of  our  'ounds  before 
he's  done  with  them — send  them  dragglin' 
'ome  with  their  sterns  down — make  'em 
cry  capevi',  I'm  thinking." 

"  Niver  fear  !  "  exclaimed  Pigg — "  niver 
fear ! — whativer  ye  de  keep  Tamboreen  a 
rowlin' — yonder  he  gans !  ar  wish  it  mayn't 
be  a  fresh  un.  Arn't  draggled  a  bit." 

"  Oh,  I  'opes  not ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, the  picture  of  despair.  "  Would  eat 
him,  brush  and  all,  sooner  than  that.  Oh, 
dear !  oh,  dear  f  a  fresh  fox  would  be  cruel 
— 'ounds  deserve  him — worked  him  well." 

"  Now  they  begin  to  chass  !  "  exclaimed 
Pigg,  listening  to  the  ripening  chorus. 
"  Aye,  there's  a  grand  scent ! — Ar'll  be 
the  death  of  a  shillin'  if  we  de  but  kill 
him.  How  way,  ould  man,  how  way," 
continued  Pigg,  cheeringly,  jerking  his 
arm  to  induce  his  master  to  follow. 
"Whativer  ye  de,  keep  Tambpreen  a 
rowlin' ! "  continued  Pigg,  spurring  and 
jagging  his  horse  into  a  canter. 

On  man  and  master  go — now  they  meet 
Charley,  and  all  three  are  together.  Again 
they  part  company  for  different  rides,  each 
according  to  his  fancy.  There  is  an  evi- 
dent improvement  in  the  scent,  but 
whether  from  a  fresh  fox,  or  the  hounds 
having  got  nearer  the  hunted  one,  is  mat- 
ter of  doubt.  Mr.  Jorrocks  is  elated  and 
excited  beyond  expression.  The  hounds 
are  evidentlv  working  the  fox,  but  the 
fear  of  a  fresn  one  rather  mars  his  enjoy- 
ment. The  hounds  turn  short,  and  Pigg 
and  Charles  again  join  Mr.  Jorrocks. 


806 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


"  A !  man  alive,  but  they  are  a  dustin' 
his  jacket!'' exclaimed  Pigg,  pulling  up 
to  listen ; — "  iv'ry  hund's  at  him  ;  "  saying 
which  he  pulled  out  a  large  steel  box  and 

stuffed  his  mouth  full  of  tobacco. 

******* 

A  sudden  pause  ensues — all  still  as 
death — not  a  note — not  even  a  whimper  1 

"  Who  hoop ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks 
in  ecstacies — "  Who  hoop  !  "  I  say— heard 
the  leadin'  'ound  crack  his  back !  Old 

Cruiser  for  a  guinea ! " 

******* 

"  Yonder  they  gan  !  "  cried  Pigg,  point- 
ing to  a  hog-backed  hill  on  the  left,  over 
which  three  couple  of  hounds  were  strain- 
ing to  gain  the  body  of  the  pack — saying 
which  he  clapt  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
dashed  off  at  full  gallop,  followed  by 

Charles. 

******* 

"  Oh.  dear !  oh,  dear ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  the  picture  of  despair — "wot 
shall  I  do  ?  wot  shall  I  do  ? — gone  away 
at  this  hour — strange  country — nobody  to 
pull  the  'edges  down  for  me  or  catch  my 
'oss  if  I  gets  spilt,  and  there's  that  Pigg 
ridin'  as  if  there  was  not  never  no  such 
man  as  his  master.  Pretty  kettle  of  fish  !  " 
continued  Mr.  Jorrocks,  trotting  on  in  the 
line  they  had  taken.  A  bridle-gate  let 
him  out  of  cover,  and  from  the  first  hill 
our  master  sees  his  hounds  going  like 
pigeons  over  the  large  grazing  grounds  of 
Beddington  Bottoms,  with  Pigg  and 
Stubbs  a  little  in  the  rear,  riding  as  hard 
as  ever  their  horses  can  lay  legs  to  the 

ground. 

******* 

"  'Ow  that  Scotch  beggar  rides ! "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Jorrocks,  eyeing  Pigg  going 
as  straight  as  an  arrow,  which  exclamation 
brought  him  to  his  first  fence  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  hill,  over  which  both  horsemen 
had  passed  without  disturbing  a  twig. 

"  'OLD  UP,  'oss !  "  roared  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
seizing  his  reins  and  whip  with  one  hand 
and  the  cantrel  of  the  saddle  with  the 
other,  as  Arterxerxes  floundered  sideways 
through  a  low  fence  with  a  little  runner 
on  the  far  side.  "  'OLD  UP  !  "  repeated 
he,  as  they  got  scrambled  through,  look- 
ing back  and  saying,  "  Terribly  nasty 
place — wonders  I  ever  got  over.  Should 
ha'  been  drund  to  a  certainty  if  I'd  got  in. 
Wouldn't  ride  at  it  again  for  nothin' 
under  knighthood — Sir  John  Jorrocks, 
Knight ! "  continued  he,  shortening  his 


hold  of  his  horse.  "And  my  ladyship 
Jorrocks !  "  added  he.  "  She'd  be  bad  to 
'old — shouldn't  wonder  if  she'd  be  for 

§oin'  to  Halmack's.  Dash  my  buttons, 
ut  I  wish  I  was  off  this  beastly  fallow," 
continued  he;  "wonderful  thing  to  me 
that  the  farmers  can't  see  there'd  be  less 
trouble  i'  growin'  grass  than  in  makin' 
these  nasty  rutty  fields.  'Eavens  be 
praised,  there's  a  gate — and  a  lane  too," 
saying  which  he  was  speedily  in  the  latter, 
and  gathering  his  horse  together  he  set 
off  at  a  brisk  trot  in  the  direction  he  last 
saw  the  hounds  going. 

Terribly  deep  it  was,  and  great  Arter- 
xerxes made  a  noise  like  the  drawing  of 
corks  as  he  blobbed  along  through  the 
stiff,  holding  clay. 

Thus  Mr.  Jorrocks  proceeded  for  a  mile 
or  more,  until  he  came  upon  a  red-cloaked 
gipsy  wench  stealing  sticks  from  a  rotten 
fence  on  the  left. 

"  'Ave  you  seen  my  'ounds,  ould  gal?  " 
inquired  he,  pulling  up  short. 

"  Bless  your  beautiful  countenance,  my 
cock  angel ! "  exclaimed  the  woman,  in 
astonishment  at  the  sight  of  a  man  in  a 
scarlet  coat  with  a  face  to  match  ;  "  bless 
your  beautiful  countenance,  you're  the 
very  babe  I've  been  looking  for  all  this 
blessed  day — cross  my  palm  with  a  bit  o' 
siller,  and  I'll  tell  you  sich  a  fortin  ! " 

"  Cuss  YOUK  FORTIN  !  "  roared  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  sticking  spurs  into  his  horse, 
and  grinning  with  rage  at  the  idea  of 
having  pulled  up  to  listen  to  such  non- 
sense. 


"I  hope  you'll  brick  your  neck,  ye 
nasty  ugly  ould  thief! "  replied  the  eipsv. 
altering  her  tone. 


"Opes  I  sharn't,"  muttered  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, trotting  on  to  get  out  of  hearing. 
Away  he  went,  blob,  blob,  blobbing 
through  the  deep  holding  clay  as  before. 

Presently  he  pulled  up  again  with  a 
"  Pray,  my  good  man,  'ave  you  seen  my 
'ounds — Mr.  Jorrocks's  'ounds,  in  fact?" 
of  a  laborer  scouring  a  fence-gutter. 
"  Don't  you  'ear  me,  man  ?  "  bellowed  he, 
as  the  countryman  stood  staring  with  his 
hand  on  his  spade. 

"I  be  dull  of  hearin',  sir,"  at  length 
drawled  the  man,  advancing  very  slowly 
towards  our  master  with  his  hand  up  to 
his  ear. 

"  Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  starting  off  again  "was  there 
ever  sich  a  misfortunate  individual  a* 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


307 


John  Jorrocks?— 'Ark!  vat's  that?  Pigg'; 
'orn  ?  "  Oh,  dear,  only  a  cow  1  Come  hup 
'oss,  I  say,  you  hugly  beast  lapped  ii 
leather  as  you,"  giving  Arterxerxes  agooc 
double  thonging  as  he  spoke.  "  Oh,  dear 
oh,  dear ! ''  continued  he,  "  I  wish  I  was 
well  back  at  the  Cross,  with  my  'ounds 
safe  i'  kennel. — Vot  a  go  is  this ! — Dinner 
at  five — baked  haddocks,  prime  piece  o 
fore  chine,  Portingal  honions  and  friec 
plum-puddin' ;  and  now,  by  these  dark 
enin'  clouds,  it  must  be  near  four,  anc 
here  I  be's,  miles  and  miles  away — 'ound; 
still  runnin',  and  adwertised  for  the  Bee 
and  Carrots  on  Wednesday — never  wil 
be  fit  to  go,  nor  to  the  Daisy  nouther." 

"  Pray,  my  good  man,"  inquired  he  o: 
a  drab-coated,  big-basketed  farmer,  on  a 
bay  cart-horse,  whom  he  suddenly  en- 
countered at  the  turn  of  the  road,  "  'ave 
you  seen  anything  of  my  'ounds?  Mr, 
Jorrocks's  'ounds,  in  fact  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  farmer,  all 
alive ;  "  they  were  running  past  Langford 
plantations,  with  the  fox  dead  beat  close 
afore  them." 

"  'Ow  long  since,  my  friend  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  brightening  up. 

"  Oh,  why  just  as  long  as  it's  taken  me 
to  come  here,  mebbe  ten  minutes  or  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  not  longer  certainly. 
If  you  put  on  you  may  be  in  at  the  death 
yet." 

Away  went  spurs,  elbows,  and  legs,  Ar- 
terxerxes was  again  impelled  into  a  can- 
ter, and  our  worthy  master  pounded 
along,  all  eyes,  ears,  and  fears.  Night 
now  drew  on,  the  darkening  clouds  began 
to  lower,  bringing  with  them  fog  and  a 
drizzling  rain.  "  Bad  go,  this,"  said  Mr. 
Jorrocks,  rubbing  his  hand  under  his 
coat-sleeve,  and  raising  his  face  to  ascer- 
tain the  precise  amount  of  the  fall.  "  Bad 
go,  indeed.  Got  my  Sunday  'at  on,  too. 
Hooi,  bouys !  did  you  see  th'  'ounds?" 
inquired  he  of  a  troop  of  satchel-slung 
youths,  plodding  their  ways  homeward 
from  school. 

"  Y-e-a-s,"  at  length  drawled  out  one, 
after  a  good  stare  at  the  inquirer. 

"  'Ow  long  since?  come,  quick,  bouy?1' 

"  May  be  twenty  minutes ;  just  as  we 
com'd  past  Hookem-Snivey  church  we 
seed  fox,  and  hounds  were  close  ahint ; 
he  was  varra  tired.1' 

"  Twenty  minutes,"  repeated  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, aloud  to  himself;  "  twenty  minutes 
—may  be  a  werry  long  way  off  by  this ; 


foxes  travel  fast.    Vich  way  were  they  u« 
goin'  ?" 

"  Straight  for  Staunton-Snivey,"  drawl- 
ed the  boy. 

"My  vig!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"vot  a  run  ;  if  we  don't  kill  werry  soon, 
it'll  be  pitch  dark'  and  then  there'll  be  a 
pretty  kittle  o'  fish ;  th'  'ounds  will  kill 
all  the  ship  (sheep)  i'  the  country  ;  shall 
have  a  bill  as  long  as  my  h'arm  to  pay." 

Fear  lent  fresh  impetus  to  our  worthy 
friend,  and  tightening  his  hold  of  Ar- 
terxerxes' head,  who  now  began  tripping 
and  stumbling,  and  floundering  along  in 
a  most  slovenly  manner,  Mr.  Jorrocks 
trotted  on,  and  reaching  Hookem-Snivey, 
saw  by  the  foot-people  standing  on  the 
church-yard  wall,  that  the  hounds  were 
"  forrard ;"  he  turned  down  a  lane  to  the 
left  of  the  village  stocks,  in  the  direction 
the  people  were  looking,  and  catching 
Staunton-Snivey  in  the  distance,  set  off 
for  it  as  hard  as  ever  he  could  tear.  A 
pretty  clattering  he  made  down  the  stony 
road. 

Night  now  drew  on  apace,  and  heavy 
darkening  clouds  proclaimed  a  fast  ap- 
proaching storm.  At  Staunton-Snivey,  he 
learned  that  the  hounds  had  just  crossed 
the  turnpike  on  to  the  Downs,  with  the 
fox  "  dead  beat  close  afore  them ;" 
and  still  unwilling  to  give  in,  though 
every  moment  increased  his  difficulties, 
lie  groped  open  a  bridle-gate,  and 
entered  upon  the  wide-extending  plain. 
The  wind  had  now  risen,  and  swept  with 
uncommon  keenness  over  the  unprotected 
open.  The  drizzling  rain,  too,  became 
changed  into  larger,  heavier  drops,  and 
thrusting  his  hat  upon  his  brow,  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks buttoned  his  coat  up  to  the  throat, 
and  wrapping  its  laps  upon  his  thighs, 
;ucked  them  in  between  his  legs  and  the 
saddle.  Dismal  and  disheartening  were 
lis  thoughts,  and  many  his  misgivings 
br  his  rashness.  "  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !" 
muttered  he,  "wot  a  most  momentous 
crisis — lost  I  lost !  lost ! — completely  lost  I 
dinner  lost!  'ounds  lost — all  lost  to- 
gether !  Oh,  vot  evil  genius  ever  tempted 
ne  from  the  lovely  retirement  o'  Great 
3oram  Street  ?  Oh !  why  did  I  neglect 
he  friendly  warnin'  o'  Gabriel  Junks  ? 
Change,  change,  storm,  storm,  was  in  his 
every  scream,  and  yet  I  would  go.  Cuss 
;he  rain,  it's  gettin'  down  my  werry  back, 
do  declare ;"  saying  which,  he  turned 
he  blue  collar  of  his  coat  up  to  his  ears. 


308 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


and  both  laps  flew  out  with  a  desperate 
gust  of  wiud.  "  Ord  *ot  it,"  said  he, 
"  it's  not  never  no  use  persewerin",  may 
as  well  give  in  at  once  and  'ark  back  to 
Snivey  ;  my  Berlins  are  wet  through,  and 
I  shall  be  drenched  in  another  second. 
Who-ay,  'ossl  who-ay;  stand  still,  you 
hugly  beast,  and  let  me  listen.  The 
ducking-headed  brute  at  length  obeyed. 

"  It  is  the  'orn,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks,  after  sitting  listening  for  some 
time,  with  his  hand  to  his  ear ;  "  it  is  the 
'orn,  Pigg's  not  far  off!  There  it  goes 
again,  but  the  'owling  wind  carries  so 
many  ways,  there's  no  saying  where- 
abouts he  is.  I'll  blow,  and  see  if  I  can 
'ail  him."  Mr.  Jorrocks  then  drew  out 
his  horn,  and  puffed  and  blew  most  lust- 
ily, but  the  raging  tempest  scattered  the 
notes  before  they  were  well  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  having  exhausted  his  breath, 
he  again  paused,  horn  in  hand,  to  listen. 
Between  each  blast  of  the  raging  hurri- 
cane, the  faint  notes  of  the  horn  were 
heard,  some  coming  more  fully  as  the 
gale  blew  more  favorably,  and  a  fuller 
one  falling  on  his  ear,  during  a  period  of 
partial  lull,  Mr.  Jorrocks  determined  on 
advancing  and  endeavouring  to  rejoin  his 
lost  huntsman.  "Come  hup,  I  say,  you 
hugly  beast!''  exclaimed  he,  getting  Ar- 
terxerxes  short  by  the  head,  and  digging 
the  spurs  freely  into  his  sides.  The  lum- 
bering brute  acknowledged  the  compli- 
ment with  a  sort  of  half  hitch  of  a  kick. 
"  Great  h enterprisers  brute — do  believe 
you'd  rayther  'ave  a  feed  o'  corn  than  the 
finest  run  wot  ever  was  seen,'1  observed 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  cropping  him.  Night  had 
now  closed  in,  and  even  the  sort  of  light 
of  darkness  that  remains  so  long  to  the 
traveler  who  journeys  onward  with  the 
closing  day,  deserted  him,  and  earth  and 
sky  assumed  the  same  sombre  hue  : — 

"  The  dragon  wing  of  night  o'erspread  the  earth  "  : 

Scarce  a  star  was  visible  in  the  firma- 
ment, and  the  few  scattered  lights  that 
appeared  here  and  there  about  the  coun- 
try, seemed  like  snatches  of  hope  lit  up 
for  the  moment  to  allure  and  perplex  the 
wanderer. 

"If  ever  mortal  man  catches  me  in 
such  a  quandary  as  this  again,"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Jorrocks,  "  I  'opes — oh  dear  I 
Who's  there? — Cus  those  Seidlitz  poo- 
ders  ! — Speak,  Isay  ! — vot  are  you  f  Come 
hup,  'oss  I  say  I"  roared  he,  ramming  the 


spurs  into  Arterxerxes,  who  had  suddenly 
shied  oft'  with  a  loud  snort.  "  Now  for 
a  murder!'1  ejaculated  Jorrocks,  still 
cramming  in  the  spurs. 

"E-yah!  E-yah !  E-yah!"  went  the 
donkey,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks's  mind,  who  had  clenched  his  huge 
hammer-headed  whip  by  the  middle,  so 
as  to  give  an  assailant  the  full  benefit  of 
its  weight.  Out  then  went  his  horn 
again,  and  the  donkey  brayed  a  full  ac- 
companiment. 

"  Oh,  the  deuce  be  with  the  hanimal  I" 
cried  Jorrocks  grinning  with  vexation, 
"  never  saw  a  donkey  yet  that  knew  when 
to  'old  his  tongne.  Oh,  my  vig,  vot  a 
vind  !  almost  blows  the  'orn  itself;  shall 
be  blown  to  hatoms,  I  do  believe.  And 
the  rain  too !  I  really  thinks  I'm  wet  to 
the  werry  waistband  o'  my  breeches.  I'll 
lay  a  guinea  'at  to  a  half-crown  gossamer 
I  haven't  a  dry  thread  upon  me  in  'alf  a 
minute.  Got  a  five-pund  note  i'  my 
pocket  that  will  be  hutterly  ruined. 
Sarves  me  right,  for  bein'  such  a  hass  as 
to  take  these  'ounds — vy  wasn't  I  content 
with  the  glorious  old  Surrey,  and  an  oc- 
casional turn  with  the  Cut-em-downs? 
Well ;  I  thinks  this  night  will  be  the  last 
of  John  Jorrocks !  Best  master  of  'ounds 
wot  ever  was  seen.  'Orrible  termination 
to  a  hactive  life ;  starved  on  a  common, 
eat  by  wolves,  or  shepherds'  dogs,  which 
is  much  of  a  muchness  as  far  as  comfort's 
concerned.  Why  even  yon  donkey  would 
be  'shamed  of  such  an  end.  There  goes 
the  vind  with  my  'at — lucky  it's  tied  on," 
added  he,  trying  to  catch  it  as  it  dangled 
at  his  back,  "  or  I  should  never  have 
seen  it  no  more.  I'd  give  fifty  punds  to 
be  back  at  'Andley  Cross — I'd  give  a 
'  undred  punds  to  be  back  at  'Andley 
Cross — knows  no  more  where  I  am  than 
if  I  was  among  the  Bohea  mountains — 
oh,  dear,  'ow  it  pours  I  I'd  give  two  'un- 
dred punds  to  be  back  at  'Andley  Cross 
— yonder's  a  light,  I  do  declare,  two  on 
em — come  hup,  'oss,  I  say.  The  hani- 
mal seems  to  have  no  sense !  I'll  lead 
you,  you  nasty  hugly  brute,  for  I  do  be- 
lieve you'll  brick  my  neck  or  my  back, 
or  both,  arter  all ;"  so  saying,  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks clambered  down,  and  getting  on  to 
the  sheltered  side  of  the  animal,  pro- 
ceeded to  plunge  and  roll,  and  stagger 
and  stumble  across  the  common,  with 
the  water  churning  in  his  great  boots,  in 
the  direction  of  lights. 


JORROCKS'S  HUN7'. 


309 


After  a  good  hour's  roll  about  the 
open  Downs,  amid  a  most  pelting,  piti- 
less storm,  our  much-respected  master  at 
length  neared  the  longed-for  lights,  which 
he  had  kept  steadily  in  view,  and  found 
they  proceeded  from  lamps  at  lodges  on 
either  side  of  handsome  gates,  betokening 
the  entrance  to  a  large  demesne.  Mount- 
ing his  horse,  he  rode  quickly  through 
the  gates,  and  trusting  to  the  sound  of 
Arterxerxeft'  hoofs  for  keeping  the  road, 
he  jogged  on  in  search  of  the  mansion. 
Tall  stately  pines,  rising  like  towers  to 
heaven,  with  sombre  yews  in  massive 
clumps,  now  made  darkness  visible,  and 
presently  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road 
brought  a  large  screen  full  of  lights  to 
view,  some  stationary,  others  gliding 
about,  which  acted  like  sunbeams  ou  our 
master's  mind ;  more  grateful  still  was 
the  shelter  afforded  by  the  lofty  portals 
of  the  entrance,  under  which,  as  if  by 
instinct,  Arterxerxes  bore  his  master,  and 
then  stood  still  to  be  delivered  of  his 
load.  "  The  bell  'ill  be  somewhere  here, 
I  guess,"  observed  Mr.  Jorrocks,  dis- 
mounting and  running  his  hand  up  either 
side  of  the  door-posts.  "Here's  as  much 
door  as  would  serve  Jack  the  Giant-kil- 
ler's castle,  and  leave  a  little  over."  So 
saying,  having  grasped  the  bulky  handle 
of  a  wall-ensconced  bell,  he  gave  it  a 
hearty  pull,  and  paused  as  they  say  for 
an  answer. 

In  an  instant,  two  tall,  highly-powdered 
footmen,  in  rich  scarlet  and  white  lace- 
bedaubed  liveries,  threw  wide  the  folding 
doors  as  though  they  expected  Daniel 
Lambert,  or  the  great  Durham  ox,  ex- 
hibiting a  groom  of  the  chamber  and  a 
lusty  porter,  laying  down  the  newspapers, 
and  hurrying  from  a  blazing  fire  in  the 
background. 
****** 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  be  shown 
to  your  room,  sir,  as  you  seem  wet?" 
observed  the  groom  of  the  chamber,  after 
a  mutual  stare,  which  Mr.  Jorrocks  did 
not  seem  likely  to  interrupt. 

"Seem  vet!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
stamping  and  shaking  himself,  "  seem  vet ; 
I'm  just  as  vet  as  a  man  can  be,  and  no 
vetter;  but  what  shall  I  do  with  my  'oss? 
The  musciful  man,  you  know,  is  musciful 
to  his  quad." 

"  Oh,  there's  a  stall  all  ready  for  him, 
sir;  your  servant's  been  here  this  'alf- 
hour  and  more ;  I'll  send  the  'orse  round 


for  you,  if  you'll  allow  me,  sir.  Here, 
Jones,  take  hold  of  him,  and  you,  Peters, 
run  down-stairs,  and  tell  Saul  to  come 
and  take  it  round." 

"Yes,'1  added  Mr.  Jorrocks;  "and  tell 
Pigg  to  let  him  have  some  warm  gruel 
directly,  and  to  get  him  well  done  hup, 
for  he's  had  a  hard  day.  Werry  clever 
of  the  chap,"  continued  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"  runnin'  to  ground  here — seems  a  capi- 
tal house — wot  a  passage !  like  the  Thames 
Tunnel."  Jorrocks  then  stumped  in. 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  the 
groom  of  the  chamber,  motioning  him 
across  a  magnificent  old  baronial  hall, 
and  turning  short  up  a  well-lit,  softly- 
carpeted,  winding  staircase,  he  preceded 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  with  a  chamber  candle, 
along  a  lengthy  gallery,  all  hung  with 
portraits  of  grim-visaged  warriors,  and 
srnall-waisted,  large  looming  ladies.  — 
"This  is  your  room,  sir,"  said  he,  at 
length,  opening  a  partially  closed  door, 
and  ushering  Mr.  Jorrocks  into  a  splen- 
didly furnished  apartment,  whose  blazing 
fire,  gleaming  on  the  rich  crimson  cur- 
tains and  hangings  of  the  room,  imparted 
a  glow  that  long  exposure  to  the  unruly 
elements  made  appear  quite  enchanting. 
"  'Eavens  be  praised  for  these  and  all 
other  mercies ! "  exclaimed  the  grateful 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  throwing  his  hat  and  whip 
upon  the  sofa,  and  plunging  into  the 
luxurious  depths  of  a  many-cushioned 
easy- chair. 

"Your  clothes  are  laid  out,  I  think, 
sir,"  observed  the  groom  of  the  chamber, 
casting  a  glance  at  another  sofa,  on  which 
clean  linen,  dress  clothes,  shiny  thin 
shoes,  were  arranged  in  the  most  ortho-> 
dox  order.  "P'rhaps  you'd  like  somo 
hot  water,  sir?" 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"werry  much — and  a  little  brandy,  if 
you've  no  objection." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  certainly,"  replied  the 
well-drilled  servant,  giving  the  top  log 
on  the  fire  a  lift  so  as  to  make  it  blaze, 
and  lighting  the  toilet-table  candles. 

All  this  passed  with  such  extraordinary 
rapidity — the  events  of  the  day  had  been 
so  numerous  and  exciting — the  transition 
from  the  depths  of  misery  to  the  height 
of  luxury  so  sudden,  and,  above  all,  the 
perfect  confidence  of  the  servant  so  se- 
ductively convincing,  that  not  doubting 
of  the  accuracy  of  everything,  and  placing 
all  to  the  credit  of  his  renowned  name 


310 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


and  the  acuteness  of  his  northern  hunts- 
man, Mr.  Jorrocka  proceeded  with  the  aid 
of  a  boot-jack  to  suck  off  his  adhering 
boots,  and  divest  himself  of  his  well- 
soaked  garments.  The  servant  presently 
returned  with  a  long-necked  bottle  of 
white  brandy  on  a  massive  silver  tray, 
accompanied  with  hot  water,  lemon,  su- 
gar, nutmeg,  and  a  plate  of  biscuits. 
Seeing  Mr.  Jorrocks  advancing  rapidly 
to  a  state  of  nudity,  he  placed  them  on  a 
table  near  the  fire,  and  pointing  to  a  bell 
beside  the  bed,  observed  that  if  he  would 
ring  when  he  was  ready,  he  would  come 
and  conduct  him  to  the  drawing-room. 
The  servant  then  withdrew. 

"  Wonder  if  Pigg's  killed  the  fox," 
observed  Mr.  Jorrocks  to  himself,  pour- 
ing out  half  a  tumbler  of  brandy  and  fill- 
ing the  glass  up  with  hot  water.  "Capital 
fun  'anting,  to  be  sure,"  said  he,  sipping 
away ;  "  'specially  ven  one  gets  into  a 
good  quarter  like  this,1'  continued  he, 
jerking  his  head,  "but  desperation  poor 
fun  sleepin'  on  a  common ! "  and  there- 
upon, after  a  few  more  preliminary  sips, 
he  drained  off  the  tumbler. 

"  May  as  well  vet  both  eyes,"  observed 
he,  as  he,  felt  the  grateful  influence  of  the 
brandy  upon  his  nearly  exhausted  frame, 
saying  which  he  poured  himself  out  an- 
other half  tumbler  of  brandy,  and  adding 
sugar  and  lemon,  drank  off  a  good  part 
of  it,  and  left  the  remainder  till  he  got 
himself  washed. 

"Werry  considerate  this,"  said  he, 
"  werry  considerate  indeed,"  he  repeated, 
taking  a  large  Turkey  sponge  out  of  the 
handle  of  a  hip  bath  of  warm  water, 
shaded  from  the  fire  by  a  glass  screen, 
inside  of  which  upon  a  rail  hung  a  row 
of  baked  towels.  "  Kettle  too,"  said  he, 
now  attracted  by  its  simmering,  "  may  as 
well  have  a  boil ;"  so  saying,  he  emptied 
the  contents  into  the  bath,  and  pulling 
off  his  wig,  proceeded  to  wash  and  disport 
himself  therein,  using  the  sponge  as  if  it 
was  his  own.  In  the  midst  of  nis  ablu- 
tions the  door  opened,  and  through  the 
glass  screen  he  saw  a  servant  in  a  dark 
coat  and  scarlet  waistcoat  enter,  and  has- 
tily retire  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  our 
white  Hottentot-like  hero  squatting  in 
the  water.  Out  Mr.  Jorrocks  got,  and 
bolted  the  door,  and  hearing  something 
going  on  in  the  passage,  he  listened  for  a 
moment  and  caught  divers  scraps  of  con- 
versation, apparently  between  a  servant 


and  his  master,  such  as,  "  Why,  you  stu- 
pid fool,  don't  you  know  the  room  ?  You 
certainly  are  the  greatest  ass  ever  man 
encumbered  himself  with." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  I  could  have  sworn 
that  was  the  room." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  look  along  the 
passage,  the  doors  are  all  so  much  alike, 
no  wonder  a  fool  like  you  is  puzzled  "  ; 
saying  which  the  voices  moved  along, 
and  Mr.  Jorrocks  heard  the  knocking  and 
opening  of  doors  all  along  the  gallery, 
until  they  gradually  died  away  in  the 
distance.  Our  hero  had  just  done  with 
his  bath,  and  finished  his  brandy  and 
water,  when  the  sound  of  returning  foot- 
steps again  drew  his  attention  to  his  door, 
and  an  angry  voice  and  a  meek  one 
sounded  alternately  through  the  panels. 

"  Now  what  are  you  staring  there  about, 
you  great  idiot — keeping  me  shivering  iii 
my  wet  clothes.  If  this  is  the  room,  why 
don't  you  knock  ?  " 

'Please,  sir,  there's  a  gen'leman  in." 

'  How  d'  you  know  ?  " 

'  Saw  him,  sir." 

'  Then  it  can't  be  my  room." 

'  Laid  your  clothes  out  in  it  howsom- 
ever,  sir." 

'  How  do  you  know  this  is  it  ?  " 

"Cause  I  tied  this  bit  of  straw  round 
the  'andle  of  the  door." 

"  Then  knock  and  ask  the  gentleman  to 
let  you  in,  and  get  my  clothes  out  again. 
You've  put  them  into  the  wrong  room, 
that's  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter — 
stupid  fool ! "  The  servant  then  ventured 
a  very  respectful  double  tap. 

"  WHO'S  THERE  ?  "  roared  Jorrocks,  in 
a  voice  of  thunder. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir, — but  I  think  I've 
made  a  mistake,  sir,  with  master's  clothes, 
sir." 

"  No,  YOU  HAVEN'T  ! "  replied  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, in  the  same  sweet  tone  as  before. 

"  Oh,  beg  pardon,  sir,"  rejoined  the  ser- 
vant. 

"  Now  ARE  YOU  SATISFIED  ?  "  roared 
the  master  in  the  Jorrockian  strain.  "  Go 
along,  you  fool,  and  seek  a  servant." 
*•**##*» 

In  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  renewed 
and  increased  noise  outside,  and  Mr. 
Jorrocks  now  recognized  the  bland  voice 
of  his  friend  the  grooir  of  the  chamber. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,'  said  he  softly 
through  the  door,  "  but  would  you  allow 
me  to  speak  to  you  for  a  moment  ?  " 


JOEROCKS'S  HUNT. 


311 


"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks; 
•'  talk  through  the  door." 

"  Please,  sir,  would  you  "  blige  me  with 
your  name,  sir  ?  " 

"Certainly!  Mr.  Jorrocks,  to  be  sure! 
The  M.  F.  H. !  Who  else  should  it  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  fear,  sir,  there's  a  mistake,  sir. 
This  room,  sir,  was  meant  for  Captain 
Widowfield,  sir.  Those  are  his  clothes, 
sir." 

"  The  deuce  !  '*  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
in  disgust.  "  Didn't  Pigg  tell  you  I  was 
a  comin'  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  captain's  servant  I  took  for 
yours,  sir." 

"Humph ! "  grunted  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"that  won't  do  ;  at  all  events,  I  can't  part 
With  the  garments.1' 

"  I  will  thank  you,  sir,  to  let  my  servant 
remove  my  clothes  from  my  room,"  ob- 
served Captain  Widowfield,  in  a  slow, 
determined  tone  through  the  door. 

"  My  good  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
altering  his  accent,  "  'ow  is  it  possible  for 
me  to  part  with  the  garments  when  I've 
nothin'  o'  my  own  but  wot's  as  drippin' 
wet  as  though  I'd  been  dragged  through 
the  basin  of  the  Paddin'ton  Canal  ?  re- 
g'larly  salivated  in  fact !  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,  sir,1' 
exclaimed  the  captain,  indignantly ;  "I'm 
wet  myself.  Will  you  open  the  door,  I  say  f  " 

"No  I  won't,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"  and  that's  the  plain  English  of  it!"  So 
saying,  he  swaggered  back  to  the  fire  with 
the  air  of  a  man  resisting  an  imposition. 
He  then  mixed  himself  a  third  tumbler 
of  brandy  and  water. 

It  may  be  well  here  to  mention  that 
the  mansion  in  which  Mr.  Jorrocks  so 
suddenly  found  himself  was  Onger  Castle, 
where  Michael  Hardy,  the  founder  of  the 
hunt,  found  himself  at  the  end  of  his  long 
and  successful  run.  The  vicissitudes  of 
many  years  had  thrice  changed  the  owner- 
ship of  the  castle  since  the  day  when  the 
good  earl  greeted  our  primitive  sportsman 
on  killing  his  fox  before  the  castle  win- 
dows, and  the  present  possessor  was 
nephew  to  that  nobleman,  who  having 
that  day  attained  his  majority,  was  about 
to  celebrate  the  event  among  a  party  of 
friend-?  and  neighbors. 

Having  waited  until  half-past  six  to 
welcome  Captain  Widowfield,  before 
dressing,  his  lordship  at  length  conclu- 
ded the  storm  had  prevented  his  coming ; 
and  the  party,  consisting  of  five  or  six 


and  twenty,  were  in  the  act  of  retiring  to 
their  respective  apartments  to  prepare 
for  dinner,  when  Walker,  the  aforesaid 
groom  of  the  chamber,  came  hurrying 
along,  pale  in  the  face  from  the  parley  in 
the  passage,  followed  by  the  captain  in  a 
high  state  of  exasperation,  to  announce 
the  appearance  of  an  uninvited  guest. 
No  sooner  was  the  name  "Jorrocks" 
announced  than  a  shout  of  triumph  and 
a  roar  of  laughter  burst  from  all  present ; 
and  after  learning  the  particulars  of  his 
arrival,  which  seemed  to  fill  every  one 
with  ecstasies,  (for  during  the  long  wait 
before  dressing,  they  had  talked  over  and 
abused  all  their  absent  friends,)  his  lord- 
ship begged  the  gallant  captain  to  be 
pacified,  and  put  up  with  a  suit  of  his 
clothes  for  the  evening. 

"  It  was  no  use  being  angry  with  old 
Jorrocks,"  he  observed,  "  whom  every- 
body said  was  mad ;  and  he  trusted  the 
amusement  he  would  afford  the  company 
would  atone  for  the  inconvenience  he 
had  subjected  his  good  friend,  the  cap- 
tain, to." 

The  doctrine,  though  anything  but 
satisfactory  to  a  man  burning  for  ven- 
geance, seemed  all  the  consolation  the 
captain  was  likely  to  get,  so  returning 
with  Walker,  he  borrowed  the  roomiest 
suit  of  Lord  Brambers'  clothes,  and  while 
attiring  himself  in  them,  he  considered 
how  best  he  could  have  his  revenge. 

Meanwhile  our  hero,  having  disposed 
of  his  third  tumbler  of  stiff  brandy  and 
water,  which  contributed  materially  to 
the  restoration  of  his  usual  equanimity, 
began  to  appropriate  the  clothes  so  con- 
veniently laid  out  on  the  sofa. 

Captain  Widowfield  was  a  stout,  big 
fellow,  as  bulky  as  Jorrocks,  and  much 
taller,  and  being  proud  of  his  leg  was 
wont  to  adorn  his  lower  man  in  shorts  on 
high  days  and  holidays ;  so  having  drawn 
on  a  pair  of  fine  open-ribbed  black-silk 
stockings  over  the  gauzeones,  Mr.  Jorrocka 
speedily  found  himself  in  a  pair  of  shorts, 
which,  by  dint  of  tight  girthing,  he  man- 
aged to  bring  up  to  the  middle  of  hia 
calves.  The  captain's  cravat  was  of  black 
satin,  the  waistcoat  a  white  one,  articles, 
as  Mr.  Jorrocks  observed,  that  could  be 
reefed  or  let  out  to  fit  any  one,  and  hav- 
ing plunged  into  the  roomy  recesses  of  a 
blue  coat,  with  conservative  buttons,  he 
surveyed  the  whole  in  the  cheval  glass, 
and  pronounced  them  "  werry  good."  H« 


S12 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


then  exchanged  the  captain's  lily  and 
rose -worked  slippers  for  his  patent-leather 
pumps,  and  the  brandy  acting  forcibly 
on  an  empty  stomach,  banished  all  diffi- 
dence, and  made  Jorrocks  ring  the  bell 
as  though  the  house  were  his  own. 
»#*#**## 

"  You've  got  me  into  a  pretty  scrape 
with  the  Earl,"  said  Walker,  entering  the 
room ;  "  I  thouerht  you  were  Captain 
Widowfield." 

"Did  you?"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
placing  himself  before  the  fire  with  a 
coat-lap  over  each  arm. — "You'll  know 
better  another  time. — But  tell  me,  what 
hearl  is  it  you  are  talkin'  about?" 

"  The  Earl  of  Bramber,  to  be  sure,"  re- 
plied the  servant. 

"  What  1  this  is  his  shop,  is  it  ?"  in- 
quired Jorrocks — "Onger  Castle,  in 
fact?" 

"  Yes ;  I  thought  you  had  been  one  of 
the  party  when  I  showed  you  in  here," 
replied  Walker. 

*•  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"where  there's  ceremony  there's  no  frind- 
ship — I  makes  no  doubt  I  shall  be  werry 
welcome — See  ;  there's  five  shillin's  for 
you,"  giving  him  a  dollar.  "  You  mustn't 
let  the  captain  in  here  though,  mind. 
Now  tell  us,  is  there  any  grub  to  get  ?" 

"  Dinner  will  be  served  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,"  replied  Walker. 

"  Dinner! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
looking  at  his  watch ;  "  ten  minutes  past 
siven,  and  not  dined  yet ;  what  will  the 
world  come  to  next?  Dead  o'  winter, 
too !" 

Walker  then  conducted  him  down 
stairs,  and  ushered  him  into  a  splendid 
drawing-room,  brilliantly  lighted  up, 
whose  countless  mirrors  reflected  his  jolly 
person  a  hundred-fold.  The  housemaids 
were  just  giving  the  finishing  sweep  to 
the  grates,  and  the  footmen  lighting  the 
candles  and  lamps,  when  our  master  en- 
tered ;  so  making  up  to  a  table  all  cov- 
ered with  pamphlets  and  papers,  he  drew 
an  easy  chair  towards  it,  and  proceeded 
to  make  himself  comfortable. 

Lord  Bramber  was  the  first  to  enter. 
He  was  a  tall,  handsome  young  man,  of 
delicate  appearance  and  gentlemanly 
manners.  He  wore  moustachios,  and 
was  dressed  in  a  black  coat  and  trousers, 
with  a  white  waistcoat. 

Seeing  a  stranger,  he  had  no  difficulty 
In  settling  who  he  was,  BO  he  advanced 


with  a  bow  and  extended  hand  to  greet 
him. 

Mr.  Jorrocks  was  up  in  an  instant. 

" My  Lord,  ' necessitas  non  habet  legs* 
as  that  classical  statesman,  Mr.  Pompon- 
ius  Hego,  would  say — or,  '  'unger  makes 
a  man  bold,'  as  I  would  say — I'm  werry 
glad  to  see  you;"  saying  which,  he  shook 
his  lordship's  hand  severely. 

"-Thank  you,"  replied  Lord  Bramber, 
smiling  at  his  guest's  hospitality  ;  "  thank 
you,"  repeated  he — "  hope  you  left  Mrs. 
Jorrocks  and  your  family  well." 

"  Thank'e"  said  Mr.  Jorrocks, "  thank'e, 
my  lordship,"  as  the  existence  of  his  bet- 
ter half  was  brought  to  his  recollection  ; 
"'opes  I  sharn't  find  her  as  I  left  her." 

"How's  that?  I  hope  she  is  not  un- 
well?" inquired  his  lordship  with  well- 
feigned  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks,  raising 
his  eye-brows  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders ;  "  oh,  no,  only  I  left  her  in  a  werry 
bad  humour,  and  I  'opes  I  shall  not  find 
her  in  one  when  I  gets  back — haw,  haw, 
haw, — he,  he,  he, — e'pose  your  'at  (hat) 
covers  your  family — wish  mine  did  too, 
for  atwixt  you  and  I  and  the  wall,  my 
lordship,  women  are  werry  weary  war- 
mints.  I  say,  my  lord,  a  gen'leman  should 
dp  nothin'  but  'unt, — it's  the  sport  of 
kings,  the  image  of  war,  without  its  guilt, 
and  only  five-and-twenty  per  cent,  of  its 
danger.  You've  got  a  werry  good  shop 
here — capital  shop,  I  may  say,"  added  he, 
surveying  the  rich  orange  silk  furniture 
and  gilding  of  the  room.  "  Wonder  how 
long  this  room  is  ?  Sixty  feet,  I  dare  say, 
if  it's  a  hinch; — let's  see."  So  saying, 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  having  set  his  back  against 
the  far  wall,  took  a  coat-lap  over  each 
arm,  and  thrusting  his  hands  into  Cap- 
tain Widowfield's  breeches  pockets,  pro- 
ceeded to  step  the  apartment.  ''  One, 
two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine,  ten,  eleven,  twelve,  thirteen,  four- 
teen, fifteen,  sixteen,"  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted in  his  measurement  by  tKe  open- 
ing of  the  door,  and  entrance  of  some  of 
the  guests.  He  was  introduced  to  each 
in  succession,  including  Captain  Widow- 
field,  a  big,  red-whiskered,  pimply-faced, 
choleric-looking  gentleman,  to  whom  our 
worthy  master  tendered  the  hand  of  feU 
lowship,  in  perfect  ignorance  of  his  being 
the  person  with  whom  he  had  L.eld  com- 
munion sweet  through  the  door. 

Dinner  was  then  announced. 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


313 


We  suppose  our  readers  will  not  care 
to  have  the  names  of  the  guests  who  sat 
down  to  the  banquet,  or  yet  the  wines  or 
viands  that  constituted  the  repast;  suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  the  company  consisted 
chiefly  of  people  in  the  neighborhood, 
sprinkled  with  a  few  idle  Honourables, 
who  lend  themselves  out  to  garnish  coun- 
try-houses in  the  dull  season,  and  the 
best  French  and  English  cookery  fur- 
nished the  repast. 

Despite  the  prevailing  non-wineing 
fashion,  everybody,  save  Captain  Widow- 
field,  drank  vrine  with  Mr.  Jorrocks,  and 
before  the  dessert  appeared,  the  poor  gen- 
tleman, what  from  the  effects  of  brandy 
on  an  empty  stomach  before  dinner,  and 
wine  on  a  full  one  during  it,  began  to 
clip  her  Majesty's  English  very  consider- 
ably. "  Never  were  such  'ounds  as  mine," 
he  kept  hiccupping,  first  into  one  neigh- 
bour's ear  and  then  into  another.  "  Never 
were  such  'ounds  (hiccup),  certainly — 
hurrah,  I  say  (hiccup),  Jorrocks  is  the 
boy !  Forward !  hark,  forward,  away  ! 
(hiccup).  You  must  come  and  'unt  with 
me,"  hiccupped  he  to  the  gentleman  on 
the  left.  "  Beef  and  Onions  on  Wednes- 
day, (hiccup)— Candid  Pig — no,  Moun- 
tain Daisy,  (hiccup) — Saturday — James 
Pigg  is  a  real  warmint  (hiccup) — a  trump, 
a  real  trump,  (hiccup)  and  no  mistake. 
Give  me  port,  none  o'  your  clarety  wines." 

The  Earl  of  Bramber's  health,  of  course, 
was  proposed  in  a  bumper,  with  "  all  the 
honours.''  Mr.  Jorrocks  hooped  and  hol- 
loaed at  the  top  of  his  voice — an  exertion 
that  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  his  per- 
formance, for  on  attempting  to  resume 
his  seat  he  made  a  miscalculation  of  dis- 
tance, and  fell  with  a  heavy  thump  upon 
the  floor.  After  two  or  three  rolls  he  was 
lifted  into  his  chair;  but  speedily  resu- 
ming his  place  on  the  floor,  Walker  was 
summoned  with  two  stout  footmen  to 
carry  him  to  bed. 

Captain  Widowfield  followed  to  make 
sure  of  his  clothes:  the  gap  caused  by 
Mr.  Jorrocks'  secession  was  speedily 
closed  in,  and  the  party  resumed  the 
convivialities  of  the  evening. 

The  room  to  which  our  master  was 
transferred  was  the  dressing-room,  over  a 
large  swimming-bath,  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  castle,  and  very  cozily  he  was  laid 
into  a  little  French  bed.  Walker  wound 
UD  his  watch,  Captain  Widowfield  walked 
off  with  his  clothes,  and  our  drunken 
hero  was  left  alone  in  his  glory. 


The  events  of  the  day,  together  with 
the  quantity  of  brandy  and  wine  he  had 
drank,  and  the  fatigue  consequent  upon 
his  exertions,  combined  to  make  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks feverish  and  restless,  and  he  kept 
dreaming,  and  tossing,  and  turning,  and 
tumbling  about,  without  being  able  to 
settle  to  sleep.  First,  he  fancied  he  was 
riding  on  the  parapet  of  Waterloo  Bridge 
with  Arterxerxes,  making  what  he  would 
call  a  terrible  fore-paw  (faux  pas),  or 
stumble  ;  next,  that  he  was  benighted  on 
the  common,  and  getting  devoured  by 
shepherds'  dogs ;  then,  that  having  bought 
up  all  the  Barcelona  nuts  in  the  world, 
and  written  to  the  man  in  the  moon  to 
secure  what  were  there,  he  saw  them  be- 
come a  drug  in  the  market,  and  the  firm 
of  Jorrocks  and  Co.  figuring  in  the  "Ga- 
zette." 

Next,  he  dreamt  that  he  had  got  one 
of  James  Pigg's  legs  and  one  of  his  own 
— that  on  examination  they  both  turned 
out  to  be  left  ones,  and  he  could  not  get 
his  boots  on.  Now  that  he  was  half- 
famished,  and  chained,  to  a  wall  in  sight 
of  a  roast  goose — anon  that  the  Queen 
had  sent  to  say  she  wanted  to  dance  with 
him,  and  he  couldn't  find  his  pumps; 
"  No !  give  him  all  the  world,  sir,  he 
couldn't  find  his  pumps."  Now  that  the 
Prince  wanted  to  look  at  Arterxerxes, 
and  he  couldn't  find  the  ginger.  "  No : 
give  him  all  the  world,  sir,  he  couldn't 
find  the  ginger !"  Then  he  got  back  to 
the  chase,  and  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  as 
he  fancied  himself  kicking  on  his  back 
in  a  wet  ditch,  with  Benjamin  running 
away  with  his  horse,  his  dreams  were  in- 
terrupted by  a  heavy  crack,  bang,  splash 
sort  of  sound,  and  in  an  instant  he  was 
under  water.  All  was  dark  &nd  still. 
His  dreams,  though  frightful,  had  all 
vanished  as  he  awoke,  and  after  rising  to 
the  top  he  waited  an  instant  to  see  if  this 
would  not  do  likewise;  but  the  sad  reality 
was  too  convincing,  so  he  began  bellow- 
ing, and  roaring,  and  splashing  about  in 
a  most  resolute  manner. 

"Hooi!  hooi!  hooil"  spluttered  he, 
with  his  eyes  and  mouth  full  of  water. 
"'ElpI  'elp!  'elpt  'elp!  I'm  a  drownin', 
I'm  a  drownin' !  Mr.  Jorrocks  is  a 
drownin' — oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,  will  nobody 
come? — Oh,  vere  am  I?  vere  am  I?  Bin- 
jimin!  I  say,  Binjimin!  James  Piggf 
James  Pigg  I  James  Pia'g !  Batsay !  Bat- 
say  I  Murder !  'elp  !  Murder  I  'elp !" 


814 


HUNT. 


"  What's  happen'd  ?  what's  happen'd? 
what's  happen'd?  Who's  there?  who's 
there?  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!" 
screamed  half-a-dozen  voices  at  once, 
rushing  with  candles  into  the  gallery  of 
the  swimming-bath. 

"  Vot's 'appen'd?"  replied  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
blobbing  and  striking  put  for  hard  life 
with  his  white  cotton  night-capped  head 
half  under  water ;  "  Vy,  I'm  drownin'. — 
'Elp !  'elp  I  'elp,  I  say !  Oh,  vill  nobody 
come  to  'elp?" 

"Throw  out  the  rope!  throw  out  the 
rope !  *'  cried  half-a-dozen  voices. 

"  No ;  get  a  boat,"  responded  Mr.  Jor- 
rocks, thinking  there  was  little  choice  be- 
tween hanging  and  drowning.  "  Oh  dear, 
I'm  sink  in  ,  I'm  sinking' ! " 

"  Come  to  this  side,  cried  one,  "  I'll 
lend  you  a  hand  out "  ;  thereupon  Mr. 
Jorrocks  struck  out  with  a  last  desperate 
effort,  and  dashed  his  head  against  the 
wall. 

They  then  pulled  him  out  of  the  bath, 
and  with  great  care  and  condolence  put 
him  to  bed  again.  He  was  still  rather 
drunk — at  least,  not  quite  sober ;  for  when 
pressed  to  exchange  his  wet  shirt  for  a  dry 
one,  he  hugged  himself  in  it,  exclaiming 

"No,  no;  they'll  worry  it!  They'll 
worry  it ! " 

##**#** 

"Your  master's  just  gone  through," 
said  Anthony  Smith  at  the  Barrow  Hill 
Gate. 

"  Mar  maister ! "  replied  Pigg,  "  what, 
Squire  Jorrocks  ?  " 

"  Yeas,"  said  the  man,  "he  was  axing 
if  I  could  tell  him  what  became  of  his 
hounds  yesterday." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Pigg, "  give  me  four- 
pence  and  a  ticket." 

On  Pigg  trotted  as  well  as  he  could 
with  a  pack  of  hounds  without  a  whipper- 
in,  and  catching  a  view  of  Mr.  Jorrocks's 
broad  red  back  rounding  a  bend  of  the 
road,  he  gave  a  puff  of  his  horn  that  acted 
like  magic. 

Mr.  Jorrocks  stopped  as  though  he 
were  shot. 

Turning  short  back,  he  espied  his 
huntsman  and  the  hounds,  and  great  was 
the  joy  and  exultation  at  meeting. 

Killed  him  did  you  say ! "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Jorrocks,  in  ecstasies,  "  vere's  his 
brush .»  " 

"  A,  sink  'em,  they'd  spoil'd  it,"  replied 
Pigg,  "  afore  iver  I  gat  te  them — but  ar's 
gotten  his  head  i'  my  pocket!  " 


"  Patch  it  out  I "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jorrocks, 
"  vy,  man,  you  should  ride  with  it  at  your 
osses'  side.  Have  you  never  a  couple 
loupto  your  saddle? — run  abifrof  vipcord 
through  his  suout,  and  let  the  world  see 
the  wonders  we've  done — you've  no  pro- 
per pride  about  you !  There  now,"  con- 
tinued he,  having  adjusted  the  head  at 
Pigg's  saddle  side,  "  let  the  world  see  it — 
don't  let  your  coat  lap  hang  over  it." 

Thus  Mr.  Jorrocks  and  Pigg  proceeded 
at  a  foot's  pace,  relating  their  mutual  ad- 
ventures. Before  they  had  got  to  the  end 
of  their  stories,  who  but  Charles  should 
pop  upon  them  from  a  by-road,  and  the 
three  having  got  together  again,  they  en- 
tered Handley  Cross  in  triumphant  pro- 
cession, as  though  they  had  never  parted. 
Rumors  of  the  run  had  been  rife  all  the 
morning,  but  in  what  direction  it  had 
been,  nobody  could  tell.  The  stables  and 
kennel  were  besieged  by  inquirers,  and 
Mr.  Fribbleton,  the  man-milliner,  who 
edited  the  "Paul  Pry,"  having  been 
granted  an  audience,  managed  from  Mr. 
Jorricks's  account  to  manufacture  the  fol- 
lowing article  for  the  second  edition  of 
his  paper.  It  was  headed— 

BRILLIANT    RUN  WITH   MR.    JOKROCKS'8 
HOUNDS  ! 

and  proceeded — 

"  As  this  unrivalled  pack  were  taking 
their  daily  exercise  on  the  Summerton 
road,  accompanied  by  the  huntsman,  their 
worthy  master,  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Charles 
Stubbs,  a  large  dog-fox  suddenly  crossed 
before  them,  with  which  the  pack  went 
away  in  gallant  style,  despite  all  efforts 
to  stop  them,  as  they  were  advertised  to 
meet  at  the  Round-of-Beef  and  Carrots 
to-morrow.  The  place  the  fox  so  suddenly 
popped  upon  them  was  just  at  the  four- 
mile-stone,  near  the  junction  on  the 
Appledove  road,  and  as  there  were  some 
coursers  on  Arthington  open  fields,  it  is 
conjectured  bold  Reynard  having  been 
suddenly  disturbed  by  the  long  dogs,  had 
come  upon  the  hounds  in  a  somewhat 
ruffled  state  of  mind,  without  dreaming  of 
his  danger.  However,  he  was  quickly 
convinced  that  there  was  some,  by  the  cry 
of  his  redoubtable  pursuers,  and  the  short- 
ness of  his  start  caused  him  to  put  his  best 
leg  foremost;  and  setting  hia  head  for 
Wallaton  Plantations,  he  went  straight 
as  an  arrow  toward  them,  passing  near 
the  main  earths  on  Thoresby  Moor,  and 


JORROCKS'S  HUNT. 


315 


going  through  the  low  end  of  the  planta- 
tion, where  they  run  out  into  a  belt. 

"  Here  he  was  chased  by  a  woodman's 
dog,  and  the  hounds  came  to  a  momentary 
check ;  but  Mr.  Jorrocks,  being  well  up, 
made  a  scientific  cast  forward,  and  getting 
upon  the  grass,  they  hit  off  the  scent  at  a 
meuse,  and  went  at  a  racing  pace  down 
to  Crowland,  through  Lady  Cross  Park, 
leaving  Bilson  a  little  on  the  right,  and 
so  on  to  Langford  Plantations,  from  thence 
by  King's  Gate  to  Hookem-Snivey,  and  on 
by  Staunton-Snivey  to  the  Downs,  cross- 
ing at  Depedean,  leaving  the  Windmill  to 
the  right,  and  the  Smugglers'  Cave  on  the 
left.  Night  and  a  hurricane  now  came 
on ;  but,  despite  all  impediments,  this 
truly  gallant  pack  realised  their  fox  at  the 
foot  of  Gunston  Crags.  A  few  more 
minutes  would  have  thrown  the  mantle 
of  protection  over  the  varmint,  for  the 
crags  are  strongholds,  from  whence  foxes 
are  seldom  or  never  dislodged.  It  was  the 
biggest  Reynard  that  ever  was  seen,  and 
the  tag  of  his  tail  was  uncommonly  large. 

"  The  distance  gone  over  could  not  have 
been  less  than  five-and-twenty  miles  ;  and 
altogether  it  was  the  very  finest  run  ever 
encountered  in  the  annals  of  fox-hunting. 
Mr.  Jorrocks  went  like  a  bird,  and  earned 
a  title  to  a  niche  among  the  crack  riders 
of  England. 

"The  hounds  lay  out  all  night,  but 
have  arrived  at  Handlev  Cross  in  very  fair 
order ;  and  we  trust  this  run  is  a  prelude 
to  a  long  career  of  brilliant  sport  that  we 
shall  have  the  good  fortune  to  record  un- 
der the  auspices  of  their  most  sporting 
master,  and  his  equally  renowned  and 
energetic  Scotch  huntsman  —  Charles 
Pigg." 

Mr.  Jorrocks  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  Bill  Bowker  :— 
"  Dear  Bowker : 

"  Yours  to  hand,  and  note  the  contents. 
We've  had  a  buster  !  Three  hours  with- 
out a  check  and  a  kill !  Should  have 
been  'appy  to  have  sent  old  '  Nunquam 
Dormio '  *  an  account,  but  it  was  a  bye  on 
the  sly,  and  no  one  being  out,  there  are 
no  names  to  bring  in.  It's  soapin'  chaps 
cleverly  wot  makes  a  run  read.  Howsom- 
ever,  I  hopes  to  have  lots  of  clippers  for 
him  to  record  before  long.  Not  that  I 
cares  about  fame,  but  it's  well  to  let  the 

*  An  eye,  with  "  nunquam  dormio "  round,  is  the 
•rwt  and  motto  of  "  Bell'i  Life." 


'ounds  have  the  credit  of  what  they  do. 
You  say  Dormio  will  spice  the  articles  up 
with  learning  and  Latin.  Latin  be  'anged  ! 
— Greek,  too,  if  there's  any  grown  now-a- 
days.  Now  for  the  run. 

"  It's  an  old  sayin'  and  a  true  'un,  that 
a  bad  beginnin'  often  makes  a  good  endin.' 
We  lost  Binjamin  at  startin' ;  the  little 
beggar  was  caught  in  the  spikes  of  a  po- 
chay  and  carried  a  stage  out  of  town — 
teach  him  to  walk  up  street  for  futur'. 
Howsomever,  off  we  set  without  him,  and 
a  tremendous  run  was  the  result.  1  send 
you  the  '  Pry.'  and  you  can  judge  for 
yourself;  the  first  part,  about  the  find, 
must  be  taken  '  cum  grano  salis,'  with  a 
leetle  Quieanne  pepper,  as  Pompouius 
Ego  would  say.  We  meant  to  have  a  pri- 
vate rehearsal,  as  it  were,  and  got  a  five- 
act  comedy  instead  of  a  three.  Indeed,  it 
were  like  to  have  been  a  tragedy. 

"  Somehow  or  other  I  got  to  the  Earl  of 
Bramber's,  where  there  was  a  great 
spread,  and  I  had  a  good  blow-out  and  a 
solemnish  drink.  Either  I  walked  in  my 
sleep  and  fell  into  a  pond  or  some  one 
pitched  me  into  one,  and  I  was  as  near 
drowned  as  a  toucher.  Howsomever,  I 
got  out,  and  werry  attentive  people  were 
to  me,  givin'  me  brandy,  and  whiskey, 
and  negus,  and  all  sorts  of  things.  I  slept 
pretty  well  after  it,  nevertheless;  but 
when  I  awoke  to  get  up  I  seemed  to  be  in 
quite  a  different  room — no  bell,  no  lookin'- 
glass,  no  washstand,  no  towels,  no  nothin', 
but  my  'unting  clothes  were  laid  nice 
and  orderly.  I  dressed,  and  found  my 
way  to  the  breakfast-room,  when  sich  a 
roar  of  laughter  greeted  my  entrance  I 
Still,  they  were  all  werry  purlite ;  but  I 
observed,  whenever  a  servant  came  in,  he 
nearly  split  his  sides  with  laughin'. 
Well,  jist  as  I  was  goin'  away  I  caught  a 
sight  of  myself  in  a  glass,  and,  oh,  crikey ! 
my  face  was  painted  broad  red  and  yellow 
stripes,  zebra-fashion !  I  couldn't  be 
angry,  for  it  was  so  werry  well  done  ;  but 
it  certainly  was  werry  disrespectful  to  an 
*M.  F.  H.  Have  no  great  fancy  for  lords 
— werry  apt  to  make  first  a  towel  and  then 
a  dish-clout  on  one.  But  enough  of  that. 

"  I  hope  the  Slender  has  not  been  silly 
enough  to  shoot  an  exciseman ;  they  are 
clearly  not  game.  It  will  be  haukward 
for  them  both  if  he  has :  course  he  has  too 
many  legal  friends  not  to  get  the  best  ad- 


*  Master  of  Fox  Hound*. 


316 


THE  COUNTRY  SQUIRE. 


vice.  I'm  sorry  to  hear  about  Susan's 
legs — they  were  a  pair  of  uncommon  neat 
ones,  certainlie;  all  the  symmetry  of 
Westris's  without  the  sinallness.  I  don't 
think  blisterin'  would  do  them  any  good; 
re>st — rest — with  occasional  friction  :  hand- 
rubbin',  in  fact,  is  the  best  thing. 

"  Charley's  .quite  well,  and  slept  last 
night  at  a  lunatic's,  a  poor  chap  wot  went 
Mad  about  'unting.  You  needn't  send 
him  none  of  your  nasty  'baccy  down  here, 
for  I  don't  stand  smokin'.  As  you  say 
Snarle's  business  has  fallen  off,  you'll 
have  fewer  common  forms  to  copy  and 
more  time  for  letter-writing.  Tip  us  a 
stave  when  you've  nothin'  to  do,  and  be- 
lieve ma  yours  to  serve. 

"JOHN  JOBROCKS. 

P.  S.  1. — I  enclose  you  5  I.  for  the  Slen- 
der. Tell  him  to  buy  a  good  hard-mouthed 
counsel  with  it.  I  fear  Billy's  only  a 
'lusus  natur',  or  '  loose  'un  by  natur',  as 
Pomponius  would  say. 

J.    J . 

P.  S.  2. — Tell  Fortnum  and  Mason  to 
send  me  a  dozen  pots  of  marmalade ;  also 
Gilbertsen  to  send  me  three  quartern 
loaves — two  brown  and  a  wite — every 
other  day.  Can't  get  sich  bread  as  his 
'ere,  and  neither  Alum  nor  Branfoote  sub- 
scribe a  dump  to  the  'ounds,  so  its  no  use 
puzzonin'  oneself  on  their  account.  Also 
see  Painter,  and  tell  him  if  his  turtl'g 
tirst  chop,  to  send  me  six  quarts,  with  a 
suitable  quantity  of  punch. 

"J.  J." 


THE  COUNTRY  SQUIRE. 

[Dosi  TOMAS  TBIARTE,  an  eminent  Spanish  poet,  was 
born  at  Teneriffe,  1750.  He  is  chiefly  known  to  Englkh 
readers  by  his  '  Fabulas  Literarias '  (Literary  Fables) 
published  1782.  These  fables  have  been  frequently 
translated  in  this  country  and  in  America.  The  latest- 
and  by  far  the  most  successful  translation,  is  that  by 
Mr.  Robert  Rockliff,  published  in  Liverpool,  1854. 
Mr.  Rockliff  has  caught  tliu  happy  manner  and  free 
versification  of  his  author  in  no  ordinary  degree,  and 
his  complete  collection  of  Yriarte's  Fables  is  one  of 
the  most  excellent  translations  from  a  foreign  language 
which  has  appeared  of  late  years.  Yriartc  died  in  1798.] 

A  COUNTRY  squire,  of  greater  wealth  than  wit 
(For  fools  are  often  bless'd  with  fortune's 

smile), 

Bad  built  a  splendid  house,  and  furnish'd  it 
In  splendid  style. 


'  One  thing  is  wanted,'  said  a  friend  ;  '  for 

though 

The  rooms  are  fine,  the  furniture  profuse, 
You  lack  a  library,  dear  sir,  for  show, 
If  not  for  use.' 

'  'Tis  true ;  but,  zounds ! '  replied  the  squire 

with  glee, 
'  The  lumber-room   in  yonder  northern 

wing 

(I  wonder  I  ne'er  thought  of  it)  will  be 
The  very  thing. 

'  I'll  hare  it  fitted  up  without  delay 

With  shelves  and  presses  of  the  newect 

mode 

And  rarest  wood,  befitting  every  way 
A  squire's  abode. 

'  And  when  the  whole  is  ready,  I'll  despatch 
My  coachman — a  most  knowing  fellow- 
down, 

To  buy  me,  by  admeasurement,  a  batch 
Of  books  in  town.' 

But  ere  the  library  was  half  supplied 

With  all  its  pomp  of  cabinet  and  shelf, 
The  booby  Squire  repented  him,  and  cried 
Unto  himself: — 

'  This  room  is   much  more   roomy  than  I 

thought ; 
Ten   thousand    volumes    hardly    would 

suffice 

To  fill  it,  and  would  cost,  however  boughl, 
A  plaguy  price. 

'  Now,  as  I  only  wanl  them  for  their  looks, 
It  might,  on  second  thoughts,  be  just  as 

good, 

And  cost  me  next  to  nothing,  if  the  books 
Were  made  of  wood. 

'  It  shall  be  so.     I'll  give  the  shaven  deal 

A  coat  of  paint — a  colourable  dress, 
To  look  like  calf  or  vellum,  and  conceal 
Its  nakedness. 

'And   gilt  and   letter'd   with  the  author'a 

name, 

Whatever  is  most  excellent  and  rare 
Shall  be,  or  seem  to  be  ('tis  all  the  same) 
Assembled  there.' 

The  work  was  done;  the  simulated  hoards 
Of  wit  and   wisdom  round  tb°   chambei 
stood, 


THE  DEAD  ALIVE. 


317 


In  bindings  some;  and  some,  of  course,  in 
hoards, 

Where  all  were  wood 

From  bulky  folios  down  to  slender  twelves 

The  choicest  tomes  in  many  an  even  row 

Displayed   their    letter'd   backs    upon    the 

shelves, 

A  goodly  show. 

With  such  a  stock,  which  seemingly  sur- 

pass'd 

The  best  collection  ever  form'd  in  Spain 
Wkat  wonder  if  the  owner  grew  at  last 
Supremely  vain? 

What  wonder,  as  he  paced  from  shelf  to 

shelf, 
And  conn'd  their  titles,  that  the  Squire 


Despite  his  ignorance,  to  think  himself 
A  learned  man  ? 

Let  every  amateur,  who  merely  looks 
To  "backs  and  bindings,  take  the  hint  and 

sell 
His  costly  library ;  for  painted  books 

Would  serve  as  well. 
TEIAETE. 


THE  BEAR  AND  THE  MONKEY. 

A  BEAR,  with  whom  a  Portuguese 
Joined  company  to  earn  their  bread, 

Essayed  on  half  his  legs  to  please 
The  public,  where  his  master  led. 

With  looks  that  boldly  claimed  applfiuse, 
He  asked  the  ape, 7'  Sir,  what  think  you  ?  " 

The  ape  was  skilled  in  dancing-laws, 
And  answered,  "  It  will  never  do." 

"You  judge  the  matter  wrong,  my  friend," 
Bruin  rejoined  ;  "  you  are  not  civil  1 

Were  these  legs  given  for  you  to  mend 
The   ease   and   grace   with  which    they 
swivel?  " 

It  chanced  a  pig  was  standing  by : 
"  Bravo  !  astonishing  !  encore  !  " 

Exclaimed  the  critic  of  the  sty  ; 

"  Such  dancing  we  shall  see  no  more  ! " 

Poor  Bruin,  when  he  heard  rhe  sentence, 

B'-gan  an  inward  calculation  ; 
Then  with  a  face  that  spoke  repentance, 

Expressed  aloud  his  meditation  : — 


"  When  the  sly  monkey  called  me  dunce, 
I  entertained  some  slight  misgiving; 

But,  Pig,  thy  praise  has  proved  at  once 
That  dancing  will  not  earn  my  living." 

Let  every  candidate  for  fame 

Rely  upon  this  wholesome  rule :  — 

Your  work  is  bad,  if  wise  men  blame ; 
But  worse,  if  lauded  by  a  fool. 

THOMAS  D«  YEIABTI. 


THE  DEAD  ALIVE. 

[PIERRE  JEAN  DE  BKBANGER,  the  greatest  lyric  poet 
that  France  has  produced,  (he  has  been  called  the 
Burns  of  France,)  was  born  at  Paris  in  1780.  The  in- 
fluence of  his  songs  on  the  public  mind  during  the 
Revolutions  of  1830  and  1848  is  now  matter  of  his- 
tory. Speaking  of  his  songs,  Goethe  says,  '  They  are 
so  full  of  mature  cultivation,  of  grace,  wit,  and  subtlest 
irony;  they  are  so  artistically  finished,  and  their  lan- 
guage is  so  masterly,  that  he  is  admired  not  only  by 
France,  but  by  the  whole  of  civilized  Europe.' 

In  the  LIBKAEY  OF  WIT  AND  HUMOR,  we,  of  course, 
can  only  exhibit  the  humorous  side  of  Beranger's  muse. 
His  perception  of  the  ludicrous  was  undoubtedly  great, 
but  it  is  in  the  composition  of  political  and  patriotic 
lyrics  that  his  greatest  power  lay.  lie  died  in  1857, 
leaving  an  Autobiography,  which  was  afterwards  pub- 
lished. 

A  volume  of  excellent  translations  from  B6ranger,  by 
Robert  B.  Brough,  appeared  in  London  in  1856,  and  from 
it  we  have  extracted  the  following  poem,  as  also  that  uf 
the  '  King  of  Yvetot.'] 

WHEN  a  bore  gets  hold  of  me, 

Dull  and  over-bearing, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  herring. 
When  the  thrusts  of  Pleasure  glib 

In  my  sides  are  sticking, 
Poking  fun  at  every  rib, 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

When  a  snob  his  £  s.  d. 

Jingles  in  his  breeches, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  ditches. 
When  a  birthday's  champagne-corki 

Round  my  ears  are  clicking, 
Marking  time  with  well  oil'd  worka, 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

Kings  and  their  supremacy 

Occupy  the  table, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me. 

I'm  as  dead  as  Abel. 


818 


THE  KING  OF  YVETOT. 


Talk  about  the  age  of  wine 
(Bought  by  cash  or  ticking), 

So  you  bring  a  sample  fine, 
I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

When  a  trip  to  Muscovy 

Tempts  a  conquest  glutton, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  mutton. 
Match  me  with  a  tippling  foe, 

See  who  first  wants  picking 
From  the  dead  man's  field  below, 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

When  great  scribes  to  poetry 

March,  by  notions  big  led, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  pig-lead. 
When  you  start  a  careless  song, 

Not  at  grammar  sticking, 
Good  to  push  the  wine  along, 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

When  a  bigot,  half-hours  three, 

Spouts  in  canting  gloom's  tones, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  tomb-stones. 
When  in  cloisters  under  ground, 

Built  of  stone  or  bricking, 
Orders  of  the  Screw  you  found, 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

Bourbons  back  in  France  we  see 

(Sure  we  don't  much  need  'em), 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  Freedom. 
Bess  returns,  and  still  our  throats 

Find  us  here  a  slicking, 
Sitting  free  without  our  coats— 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

Forced  to  leave  this  company, 

Bottle-wine  and  horn-ale, 
Be  so  kind  as  pray  for  me, 

I'm  as  dead  as  door-nail. 
Pledging  though  a  quick  return, 

Soon  my  anchor  sticking 
On  the  shore  for  which  I  yearn — 

I'm  alive  and  kicking. 

BEBANOER. 


THE  KING  OF  YVETOT. 

[  Trantlated  from  the  French  of  Stranger  by  Robert  B. 
trough.} 

IT  was  a  king  of  Yvetot, 
Whom  few  historians  name ; 


A  sleeper  fast,  a  waker  slow, 
No  dreams  had  he  of  fame. 

By  Betty's  hand  with  nightcap  crown'd, 

He  snored  in  state  —the  whole  clock  round- 
Profound  ! 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!  hoi  liol 

A  kingdom  match  with  Yvetot  1 
Ho!  ho! 

Four  goodly  meals  a  day,  within 

His  palace-walls  of  mud, 
He  stow'd  beneath  his  royal  skin ; 

And  on  an  ass — his  stud — 
In  triumph  through  his  realm  would  jog, 
His  guard,  with  vigilance  agog, — 

A  dog ! 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!   ho!  ho! 
A  kingdom  match  with  Yvetot ! 

Ho!  ho! 

No  costly  regal  tastes  had  he, 

Save  thirstiness  alone ; 
But  ere  a  people  blest  can  be, 

We  must  support  the  throne ! 
So  from  each  cask  new  tapp'd  he  got, 
(His  own  tax-gath'rer)  on  the  spot, 

A  pot! 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!  ho!  ho! 
A  kingdom  match  with  Yvetot  I 
Ho!  ho! 

So  well  he  pleased  the  damsels  all, 

The  folks  could  understand 
A  hundred  reasons  him  to  call 

The  Father  of  his  Land. 
His  troops  he  levied  in  his  park 
But  twice  a  year — to  hit  a  mark, 

And  lark ! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!  ho!  ho! 
A  kingdom  match  with  Yvetot  I 
Ho!  ho! 

To  stretch  his  rule  he  never  sought ; 

No  neighbours'  slumbers  vexed  ; 
To  frame  his  laws  (as  good  kings  ought) 

Took  pleasure's  code  for  text. 
Be  never  caused  his  subjects  dear 
To  shed  save  only  on  his  bier — 

A  tear ! 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!  ho!  ho! 
A  kingdom  match  with  Yvetot ! 
Ho!  ho! 

The  portrait  of  this  prince  serene, 

The  greatest  of  his  line, 
[n  Yvetot  may  still  be  seen, 

His  fav'rite  beer-shop's  sign ! 
On  holidays  the  boozing  crowd 


SCHNAPPS. 


Shout,  pledging  deep  the  relic  proud,  • 

Aloud, 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho!  hoi  ho! 
He  was  the  king  for  Yvetot ! 

Ho!  ho! 

BERANOER. 


THE  HAPPY  MAN. 

[FROM  the  French  of  Gilles  Menage,  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  tnen  of  letters  in  France,  who  was  born 
at  Angers  in  1613.  Died,  1692.  He  is  now  best  known 
M  the  Author  of  J\ltnagiana,  one  of  the  most  excellent 
and  original  of  the  celebrated  Ana  of  France.  The 
following  poem  bears  a  remarkable  resemblance  to 
Goldsmith's  Madame  Blaixe,  and  it  is  quite  possible 
that  the  latter  may  have  been  suggested  by  it.] 

LA  GALLISSE  low  I  wish  to  touch; 

Droll  air!  It  I  can  strike  it, 
I'm  sure  the  siong  will  please  you  much; 

That  is,  if  j  ou  should  like  it. 

La  Gallisse  wjis  indeed,  I  grant, 

Not  used  to  any  dainty 
When  he  was  born — but  could  not  want, 

As  long  as  he  had  plenty. 

Instructed  with  the  greatest  care, 

He  always  was  well  bred, 
And  never  used  a  hat  to  wear, 

But  when  'twas  on  his  head. 

His  temper  was  exceeding  good, 

Just  of  his  father's  fashion  ; 
And  never  quarrels  broil'd  his  blood, 

Except  when  in  a  passion. 

His  mind  was  on  devotion  bent ; 

He  kept  with  care  each  high  day, 
And  rloly  Thursday  always  spent, 

The  day  before  Good  Friday. 

He  liked  good  claret  very  well, 

I  just  presume  to  think  it; 
For  ere  its  flavour  he  could  tell, 

He  thought  it  best  to  drink  it. 

Than  doctors  more  he  loved  the  cook, 
Though  food  would  make  him  gross ; 

And  never  any  physic  took, 
But  when  he  took  a  dose. 

0  happy,  happy  is  the  swain 

The  ladies  so  adore  ; 
For  many  followed  in  his  train, 
r  he  walk'd  before. 


Bright  as  the  sun  his  flowing  hair 

In  golden  ringlets  shone  ; 
And  no  one  could  with  him  compare, 

If  he  had  been  alone. 

His  talents  I  can  not  rehearse, 

But  every  one  allows, 
That  whatsoe'er  he  wrote  in  verse, 

No  one  could  call  it  prose. 

He  argued  with  precision  nice, 

The  learned  all  declare  ; 
And  it  was  his  decision  wise, 

No  horse  could  be  a  mare. 

His  powerful  logic  would  surprise, 
Amuse,  and  much  delight: 

He  proved  that  dimness  of  the  eyes 
Was  hurtful  to  the  sight. 

They  liked  him  much — so  it  appean 
Most  plainly — who  preferr'd  him  ; 

And  those  did  never  want  their  can, 
Who  any  time  had  heard  him. 

He  was  not  always  right,  'tis  true, 
And  then  he  must  be  wrong  ; 

But  none  had  found  it  out,  he  knew, 
If  he  had  held  his  tongue. 

Whene'er  a  tender  tear  he  shed, 
'Twas  certain  that  he  wept ; 

And  he  would  lay  awake  in  bed, 
Unless,  indeed,  he  slept. 

In  tilting  everybody  knew 

His  very  high  renown ; 
Yet  no  opponents  he  o'erthrew, 

But  those  that  he  knock'd  down.. 

At  last  they  smote  him  in  the  head— 
What  hero  erer  fought  all  ? 

And  when  they  saw  that  he  was  dead, 
They  knew  the  wound  was  mortal. 

And  when  at  last  he  lost  his  breath, 

It  closed  his  every  strife ; 
For  that  sad  day  that  seal'd  his  death, 

Deprived  him  of  his  life. 


SCHNAPPS. 

[THIS  spirited  translation  from  the  German  of  Selbv 
appeared  anonymously  in  the  Ltublm  University  Maga- 
xine  a  few  years  ago.] 

I'm  rather  slow  at  extravaganzas, 

And  what  your  poets  call  thunderclaps ; 


320 


RHINE- WINE. 


I'll  therefore  spin  you  some  sober  stanzas 
Concerning  nothing  at  all  but  Schnapps. 

And    though    my    wisdom,    like     Sancho 

Panza's, 
Consists  entirely  of  bits  and  scraps, 

I'll  bet  you  fourpence  that  no  man  plans  as 
Intense  a  poem  as  I  on  Schnapps. 

Schnapps,  is  you  know,  the  genteelest  liquid 

That  any  tapster  in  Potsdam  taps  ; 
When  you've  tobacco,    and  chew  a  thick 

quid, 
You've  still  to    grin    for  your  glass   of 

Schnapps. 

You  then  wax  funny,  and  show  your  slick  wit, 
And  smash  to  smithers  with   kicks  and 


Whatever 's  next  you — in  Latin  quicquid — 
For    I     quote    Horace     when    lauding 
Schnapps. 

I've  but  one  pocket  for  quids  and  coppers, 

Which  last  moreover  are  mostly  raps, 
Yet  'midst  my   ha'pence  and   pipes    and 

stoppers 

I  still  find  room  for  a  flask  of  Schnapps. 
My  daily  quantum  is  twenty  croppers, 
Or   ten    half-noggins ; — but,    when   with 

chaps 
Who,  though  good  Schnappers,  are  no  slip- 

sloppers, 
I  help  to  empty  a  keg  of  Schnapps. 

Being  fifty,  sixty,  or  therebetwixt,  I 

Guess  many  midnights  cannot  now  elapse 
Before  the  hour  comes  in  which  my  fixt  eye 
Must    look    its    last    upon    Earth    and 
Schnapps. 

SELBER. 


SONG  FOR  PUNCH  DRINKERS. 

From  the  German  of  schiiler. 

FOUR  be  the  elements, 
Here  we  assemble  'em, 

Each  of  man's  world 

And  existence  an  emblem. 

Press  from  the  lemon 
The  slow-flowing  juices — 

Bitter  is  life 

In  its  lessons  and  uses. 

Bruise  the  fair  sugar  lumps — 

Nature  intended 
Her  sweet  and  severe 

To  be  everywhere  blended. 


Pour  the  still  water — 
Unwarning  by  sound, 

Eternity's  ocean 

Is  hemming  us  round. 

Mingle  the  spirit, 

The  life  of  the  bowl- 
Man  is  an  earth-clod 

Unwarm'd  by  a  soul  I 

Drink  of  the  stream 
Ere  its  potency  goes  I 

No  bath  is  refreshing 
Except  while  it  glows  I 


Puma. 


MATTHIAS  CLAUDIUS". 

[Tms  amiable  man  and  agreeable  writer  was  born  in 
1740,  at  Keinfeldt  in  Holstein,  near  Lttbeek.  He  lived 
for  some  time  in  Wandsbeck.  In  1776,  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  a  public  office  in  Darmstadt,  but  returmed 
to  Wandsbeck  the  next  year.  He  was  a  frequent  con- 
tributor  to  the  "  Wandsbeck  Messenger."  He  died  in 
1818.  A  collection  of  his  works,  completed  in  1812^ 
was  published  under  the  title  of  "  Asmus  omuia  sua 
secum  portans,  or  the  Collective  Works  of  the  Wands- 
beck  Messenger."  A  new  edition  in  four  volumes  was 
published  at  Hamburg  in  1838. 

The  most  prominent  characteristic  of  Claudius,  as  a 
writer,  is  a  certain  simplicity  and  hearty  good-humor. 
He  wrote  excellent  popular  songs,  simple  ballads,  fables, 
epigrams,  tales,  and  dialogues.] 

RHINE-WINE. 

WITH   lauiel  wreati«  the   glass's  vintage 

mellow, 

And  drink  it  gaily  dry  I 
Through  farther  Europe,  know,  my  worthy 

fellow, 
For  such  in  vain  ye  '11  try. 

Nor  Hungary  nor  Poland  e'er  could  boast  it; 

And  as  for  Gallia's  vine, 
Saint  Veit,  the   Ritter,  if  he  choose,  may 
toast  it, — 

We,  Germans,  love  the  Rhine. 

Our  fatherland  we  thank  for  such  a  blessing, 

And  many  more  besides; 
And   many  more,  though   little  show  pos- 
sessing, 
Well  worth  our  love  and  pride. 

Not  everywhere  the  vine  bedecks  our  border, 
As  well  the  mountains  show, 

That  harbor  in  their  bosoms  foul  disorder; 
Not  worth  their  room  below. 


MIGHT  AND  RIGHT. 


321 


Thuringia's  hills,  for  instance,  are  aspiring 

To  rear  a  juice  like  wine  ; 
But  that  is  all ;  nor  mirth  nor  song  inspiring, 

It  breathes  not  of  the  vine. 

And  other  hills,  with  buried  treasures  glow- 

For  wine  are  far  too  cold  ; 
Though    iron   ores   and    cobalt  there  are 

growing, 
And  chance  some  paltry  gold. 

The  Rhine, — the    Rhine, — there   grow  the 

gay  plantations ! 
0,  hallowed  be  the  Rhine  I 
Upon  his  banks  are  brewed  the  rich  pota- 
tions 
Of  this  consoling  wine. 

Drink   to  the   Rhine!    and   every  coming 

morrow 

Be  mirth  and  music  thine ! 
And   when  we  meet  a  child   of  care   and 

sorrow, 
We  '11  send  him  to  the  Rhine. 


WINTER. 

A  SONG  TO  BE  SUNG  BEHIND  THE  STOVE. 

OLD  WINTER  is  the  man  for  me,— 
Stout-hearted,  sound,  and  steady ; 

Steel  nerves  and  bones  of  brass  hath  he  ; 
Come  snow,  come  blow,  he  's  ready. 

If  ever  man  was  well,  't  is  he ; 

He  keeps  no  fire  in  his  chamber, 
And  yet  from  cold  and  cough  is  free 

In  bitterest  December. 

He  dresses  him  out-doors  at  morn, 
Nor  needs  he  first  to  warm  him  ; 

Toothache  and  rheumatis'  he  '11  scorn, 
And  colic  don't  alarm  him. 

In  summer,  when  the  woodland  rings, 
He  asks,  "  What  mean  these  noises?  '' 

Warm  sounds  he  hates,  and  all  warm  things 
Most  heartily  despises. 

But  when  the  fox's  bark  is  loud  ; 

When  the  bright  hearth  is  snapping ; 
When  children  round  the  chimney  crowd, 

All  shivering  and  clapping ; 
VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


When  stone  and  bone  with  frost  do  break, 
And  pond  and  lake  are  cracking, — 

Then  you  may  see  his  old  sides  shake, 
Such  glee  his  frame  is  racking. 

Near  the  north  pole,  upon  the  strand, 

He  has  an  icy  tower  ; 
Likewise  in  lovely  Switzerland 

He  keeps  a  summer  bower. 

So  up  and  down, — now  here, — now  there,"- 

His  regiments  manoeuvre; 
When  he  goes  by,  we  stand  and  stare, 

And  cannot  choose  but  shiver. 

MATT.  CLAXJDIU*. 


THE  HEN. 

WAS  once  a  hen  of  wit  not  small 

(In  fact,  't  was  not  amazing), 
And  apt  at  laying  eggs  withal, 
Who,  when  she  'd  done,  would  screan 

and  bawl, 

As  if  the  house  were  blazing. 
A  turkey-cock,  of  age  mature, 

Felt  thereat  indignation ; 
'T  was  quite  improper,  he  was  sure, 
He  would  no  more  the  thing  endure ; 

So,  after  cogitation, 
He  to  the  lady  straight  repaired, 
And  thus  his  business  he  declared: 

''  Madam,  pray  what  's  the  matter, 
That  always,  when  you've  laid  an  egg, 

You  make  so  great  a  clatter  ? 
I  wish  you  'd  do  the  thing  in  quiet ; 
Do  be  advised  by  me,  and  try  it  1  " 
"  Advised  by  you  ?  "  the  lady  cried, 

And  tossed  her  head  with  proper  pride, 
"  And  what  do  you  know,  now  I  pray, 
Of  the  fashions  of  the  present  day, 
You  creature  ignorant  and  low  ? 
However,  if  you  want  to  know^ 
This  is  the  reason  why  I  do  it : 
I  lay  my  egg,  and  then  review  it  1 " 

MATT.  CLAUDIU*. 


MIGHT  AND  RIGHT. 

From  the  German  of  Pfeffel. 

A  SPARROW  caught  a  big  blue  bottle 
Fly,  upon  a  weeping  willow  ; 

It  buzz'd— Phil  held  him  by  the  throttle, 
'  Oh,  let  me  go,  there's  a  good  fellow' 

'  No,'  says  the  murderer,  '  not  at  all ; 

For  I  am  big,  and  you  are  small.' 

21 


322 


IN  PRAISE  OF  SLEEP. 


A  sparrow-hawk  pounced  on  the  sparrow 

Enjoying  his  repast ;  at  once 
He  plunged  his  talons  in  his  marrow. 

'  Oh,  let  me  go  ;  what's  the  nonce?  ' 
'  Oh  ! '  says  the  murderer,  '  not  at  all ; 
For  I  am'big,  and  you  are  small.' 

An  eagle  spied  the  sport;  and,  lo! 

Popp'd  down  to  have  a  bit  of  dinner. 
'  Oh,  please  your  majesty,  let  me  go  ; 

Have  mercy  on  a  worthless  sinner.' 
'  Pooh  1  '  says  the  murderer,  '  not  at  all ; 
For  I  am  big,  and  you  are  small.' 

While  yet  the  king  the  bones  was  picking, 
An  archer  served  him  out  his  gruel ; 

An  arrow  in  "his  gizzard  sticking, 

Made  him  exclaim,  '  0  dear,  how  cruel  1 ' 

1  Tut,'  quoth  the  archer,  '  not  at  all ; 

For  I  am  big,  and  you  are  small.' 

The  moral  is  plain,  ho  !   read  it  all : — 
But  ONE  is  big,  all  else  is  small- 


A  TRAGIC  STORY. 

From  the  German  of  Chamisso. 

THERE  lived  a  sage  in  days  of  yore, 
And  he  a  handsome  pig-tail  wore, 
But  wonder'd  much  and  sorrow'd  more, 
Because  it  hung  behind  him. 

He  mused  upon  this  curious  case, 
And  swore  he'd  change  the  pig-tail's  place, 
And  have  it  hanging  at  his  face, 
Not  dangling  there  behind  him. 

Says  he,  '  The  mystery  I  have  found — 
I'll  turn  me  round !  ' — he  turn'd  him  round, 
And  stamp'd  with  rage  upon  the  ground, 
But  still  it  hung  behind  him. 

Then  round  and  round,  and  out  and  in, 
All  day,  the  puzzled  sage  did  spin ; 
In  vain  ;  it  matte r'd  not  a  pin, 

The  pig-tail  hung  behind  him. 

And  right  and  left  and  round  about, 
And  up  and  down,  and  in  and  out 
He  turn'd,  but  still  the  pig-tail  stout, 
Hung  steadily  behind  him. 

And  though  his  efforts  never  slack, 
And  though  he  twist  and  twirl  and  tack, 
Ala«  I  still  faithful  to  his  back, 

The  pig-tail  hangs  behind  him. 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  CONCEIT. 

[THE  following  translation,  of  the  famous  German 
Bong,  by  Herr  v.  Muhlor,  appeared  in  Notes  and  Quart* 
a  few  years  ago,  under  the  signature  of  F.  C.  H. 

STRAIGHT  from  the  tavern  door 

I  am  come  here ; 
Old  road,  how  odd  to  me 

Thou  dost  appear  1 
Right,  and  left  changing  sides, 

Rising  and  sunk  ; 
Oh,  I  can  plainly  see — 

Road  1  thou  art  drunk  I 

Oh,  what  a  twisted  face 

Thou  hast,  O  moon ! 
One  eye  shut,  t'other  eye 

Wide  as  a  spoon. 
Who  could  have  dreamt  of  thil  ? 

Shame  on  thee,  shame ! 
Thou  hast  been  fuddling, 

Jolly  old  dame ! 

Look  at  the  lamps  again ; 

See  how  they  reel ! 
Nodding  and  flickering 

Round  as  they  wheel. 
Not  one  among  them  all 

Steady  can  go ; 
Look  at  the  drunken  lamps, 

All  in  a  row. 

All  in  an  uproar  seem 

Great  things  aiwl  small ; 
I  am  the  only  one 

Sober  at  all ; 
But  there's  no  safety  here 

For  sober  men  ; 
So  I'll  turn  back  to 

The  tavern  again. 


IN  PRAISE  OF  SLEEP. 

From  the  Italian  of  Passeroni. 
'  Qia  molte  cosf,  e  molte  toprn  V  SOMWO.' 

How  many  things  have  oft  been  sung  or  said 
Concerning  Sleep,  in  poetry  and  prose  ! — 

There's  scarce  an  author  worthy  to  be  read 
But  something:  on  the  subject  can  disclose; 

While  some  declare  it  good,  with  nodding 

head, 
Others  its  torpid  influence  oppose; — 


THE  SCRIPTURAL  PANORAMIST. 


323 


And  thus  its  good  or  evil  each  enhances, 
As  it  may  chance  to  suit  their  different 
fancies. 

He  who  extols  its  worth,  we  always  find 

Loves   frequent   naps,    and    after-dinner 

snoozes ; 
But  he  who  is  not  drowsily  inclined, 

Old  Morpheus,  for  the  vilest  god,  abuses  ; 
As  one  who  tow'rds  the  ladye  of  his  mind 

The  honey'd  terms  of  admiration  uses, — 
Yet  those  who  do  not  care  a  farthing  for  her, 

Despise  her  charms,  or  mention  her  with 
horror. 

By  some,  in  terms  of  glowing  praise  addrest, 
As   rest  to  wearied   mortals   sent  from 

heav'n — 
Of  all  its  gracious  gifts  esteem'd  the  best — 

A  brief  oblivion  to  our  sorrows  given  I 
Others  deny  its  virtues,  and  protest 

Somnus    from    earth    has    every  virtue 

driven : 

One  calls  him  Son  of  Erebus, — another 
Swears  he  is  nothing  better  than  Death's 
brother. 

Some  say  it  keeps  us  healthy, — and  again, 

For  sickness  'tis  a  soothing  remedy  ; 
Others  declare  it  stagnates  every  vein, 

Making  us,  like  the  blood,  creep  lazily. 
All  this  may  be,  or  not ;  but  I  maintain, 

When  I  am  snoring,  that  I  feel  quite  free 
From  trouble  or  annoyance  ,  and  I  hate 

A  blockhead  who  disturbs  that  tranquil 
state. 

Sleep  can  at  least  a  truce  to  sorrow  bring, 

Altho'  it  may  not  conquer  miseries, 
For  o'er  our  couch  he  spreads  his  dusky 
wing, 

And  grief  before  its  mighty  power  flies  ; 
And,  as  I  somewhere  heard  a  poet  sing, 

'  Beggars    and    kings    sleep    soon    can 

equalize ; ' 
So,  when  asleep,  perchance  I  am  as  good 

As  any  lord  or  prince  of  royal  blood  ! 

Nay,  I  am  happier  still,  for  I  must  own 

My  sleep  is  not  disturb'd  by  constant  fear 
That  others  may  attack  my  wife,  or  throne, 

Or  that  the  threat'ning  Sultan  marches 

near; 

I  am  not  roused  by  the   shrill   trumpet's 
tone — 

Indeed, no  «fr.rrling  sound  disturbs  my  ear, 
Unless  it  be  the  neighb'ring  abbey's  chime, 

With  noisy  zeal  proclaiming  matin  time. 


And  if  in  visions  phantom  shades  arise, 

Invoking  midnight  terrors — what  of  them  ? 
How  oft  on  soaring  wings  we  range  the 
skies — 

At  banquets  sit — or  find  some  costly  gem — « 
Discover  where  a  hoarded  treasure  lies — 

Or  wear  a  monarch's  jewell'd  diadem? 
For  such  adventures  we  may  meet, 

Raised  by  sleep's  magic-wand,  with  kind 
deceit. 

Moreover,  I  am  wedded  to  no  mate, 

Thinking   my   holy  slumber   she   might 

break ; 
I  am  no  doctor — thief — or  advocate — 

For  they  must  ever  keep  both  eyes  awake. 
Oh  !  when  I  take  a  hearty  supper,  late 
How  sweetly  sleep  creeps  o'er  me  1  I  be- 
take 
My  wearied  limbs  to  bed ;  and,  when  once 

there, 

Why  the  dog  barks,  I  neither  know  nor 
carel 


THE  SCRIPTURAL  PANORAMIST. 

There  was  a  fellow  travelling  around 
with  a  moral  religious  show — a  sort  of  a 
scriptural  panorama  —  and  he  hired  a 
wooden-headed  old  slab  to  play  the  piano 
for  him.  After  the  first  night's  perform- 
ance, the  showman  says : 

"  My  friend,  you  seem  to  know  pretty 
much  all  the  tunes  there  are,  and  you 
worry  along  first-rate.  But  then  didn't 
you  notice  that  sometimes  last  night  the 
piece  you  happened  to  be  playing  was  a 
little  rough  on  the  proprieties,  so  to  speak 
— didn't  seem  to  jibe  with  the  general 
gait  of  the  picture  that  was  passing  at 
the  time,  as  it  were — was  a  little  foreign 
to  the  subject,  you  know — as  if  you  didn't 
either  trump  or  follow  suit,  you  under- 
stand?" 

"Well,  no,"  the  fellow  said;  "he 
hadn't  noticed,  but  it  might  be  ;  he  had 
played  along  just  as  it  came  handy." 

So  they  put  it  up  that  the  simple  old 
dummy  was  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  pano- 
rama after  that,  and  as  soon  as  a  stun- 
ning picture  was  reeled  out,  he  was  to  fit 
it  to  a  dot  with  a  piece  of  music  that 
would  help  the  audience  to  get  the  idea 
of  the  subject,  and  warm  them  up  like  a 
camp-meeting  revival.  That  sort  of  thing 
would  corral  their  sympathies,  the  show- 
man said. 


$24 


THE  SCRIPTURAL  PANORAMIST. 


There  was  a  big  audience  that  night — 
mostly  middle-aged  and  old  people  who 
belonged  to  the  church  and  took  a  strong 
interest  in  Bible  matters,  and  the  balance 
were  pretty  much  young  bucks  and  heif- 
ers— they  always  come  out  strong  on  pan- 
oramas, you  know,  because  it  gives  them 
a  chance  to  taste  one  another's  mugs  in 
the  dark. 

Well,  the  showman  began  to  swell  him- 
self up  for  his  lecture,  and  the  old  mud- 
dobber  tackled  the  piano,  and  run  his 
fingers  up  and  down  once  or  twice  to  see 
that  she  was  all  right,  and  the  fellows 
behind  the  curtain  commenced  to  grind  out 
the  panorama.  The  showman  balanced 
his  weight  on  his  right  foot,  and  propped 
his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  flung  his  eye 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  scenery,  and  says: 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  painting 
now  before  you  illustrates  the  beautiful 
and  touching  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 
Observe  the  happy  expression  just  break- 
ing over  the  features  of  the  poor  suffering 
youth — so  worn  and  weary  with  his  long 
march ;  note  also  the  ecstasy  beaming 
from  the  uplifted  countenance  of  the 
aged  father,  and  the  joy  that  sparkles  in 
the  eyes  of  the  excited  group  of  youths 
and  maidens,  and  seems  ready  to  burst 
in  a  welcoming  chorus  from  their  lips. 
The  lesson,  my  friends,  is  as  solemn  and 
instructive  as  the  story  is  tender  and 
beautiful." 

The  mud-dobber  was  all  ready,  and 
the  second  the  speech  was  finished  he 
struck  up : 

"  Oh  1  we'll  all  get  blind  drunk 
When  Johnny  comes  marching  home  !" 

Some  of  the  people  giggled,  and  some 
groaned  a  little.  The  showman  couldn't 
say  a  word.  He  looked  at  the  piano- 
sharp  ;  but  he  was  all  lovely  and  serene 
— he  didn't  know  there  was  anything  out 
of  gear. 

The  panorama  moved  on,  and  the  show- 
man drummed  up  his  grit  and  started  in 
fresh : 

"  Ladies  jand  gentlemen,  the  fine  pic- 
ture now  unfolding  itself  to  your  gaze  ex- 
hibits one  of  the  most  notable  events  in 
Bible  history — our  Saviour  and  his  dis- 
ciples upon  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  How  grand, 
how  awe-inspiring  are  the  reflections 
which  the  subject  invokes!  What  sublim- 
ity of 'faith  is  revealed  to  us  in  this  lesson 
from  the  sacred  writings !  The  Saviour 


rebukes  the  angry  waves,  and  walks  se- 
curely upon  the  bosom  of  the  deep  !  " 
All  around  the  house  they  were  whis- 

Eering,  "  Oh  !  how  lovely  !  how  beauti- 
il ! "  and  the  orchestra  let  himself  out 
again : 

"  Oh !  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave, 

And  a  home  on  the  rolling  deep !" 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  honest  snick- 
ering turned  on  this  time,  and  consider- 
able groaning,  and  one  or  two  old  deacons 
got  up  and  went  out.  The  showman 
gritted  his  teeth  and  cursed  the  piano  man 
to  himself ;  but  the  fellow  sat  there  like  a 
knot  on  a  log,  and  seemed  to  think  he  was 
doing  first-rate. 

After  things  got  quiet,  the  showman 
thought  he  would  make  one  more  stagger 
at  it,  any  how,  though  his  confidence  was 
beginning  to  get  mighty  shaky.  The 
supes  started  the  panorama  to  grinding 
along  again,  and  he  says : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  exquisite 
painting  illustrates  the  raising  of  Lazarus 
from  the  dead  by  our  Saviour.  The  sub- 
ject has  been  handled  with  rare  ability  by 
the  artist,  and  such  touching  sweetness 
and  tenderness  of  expression  has  been 
thrown  into  it,  that  I  have  known  pecu- 
liarly sensitive  persons  to  be  even  affected 
to  tears  by  looking  at  it.  Observe  the 
half-confused,  half-inquiring  look,  upon 
the  countenance  of  the  awakening  Laza- 
rus. Observe,  also,  the  attitude  and  ex- 
pression of  the  Saviour,  who  takes  him 
gently  by  the  sleeve  of  his  shroud  with 
one  hand,  while  he  points  with  the  other 
toward  the  distant  city." 

Before  anybody  could  get  off  an  opinion 
in  the  case,  the  innocent  old  ass  at  the 
piano  struck  up : 

"  Come,  rise  up,  William  Ri-i-ley, 
And  go  along  with  me  •'  " 

It  was  rough  on  the  audience,  All  the 
solemn  old  flats  got  up  in  a  huff  to  go,and 
everybody  else  laughed  till  the  windows 
rattled. 

The  showman  went  down  and  grabbed 
the  orchestra,  and  shook  him  up,  and  says  : 

"That  lets  you  out,  you  know,  you 
chowder-headed  old  clam  !  Go  to  the 
doorkeeper  and  get  your  money,  and  cut 
your  stick  !  vamose  the  ranche  !  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  circumstances  over  which 
I  have  no  control  compel  me  prematurely 

to  dismiss " 

MASK  TWAIN. 


OUR  AMERICAN  CHARLES  LAMB. 


325 


OUR  AMERICAN    CHARLES  LAMB. 

[ME.  WILLIAM  M.  TEAVERS,  of  New  York,  resembles 
Charlei  Lamb,  not  only  in  a  slight  hesitancy  of  speech 
which  adds  to  his  drollery  as  a  raconteur,  but  also  in  the 
quaintness  of  his  humor  for  which  he  is  justly  cele- 
brated among  his  acquaintances.  Many  good  stories 
are  told  of  him,  and  many  droll  things  attributed  to 
him,  of  which  he  may  be  wholly  innocent.] 

ONE  morning,  it  is  said,  he  walked  into 
his  club  with  an  amused  smile  on  his 
lips  and  said : 

"  B-b-boys,  I'm  afraid  I  t-t-took  m-more 
wine  last  h-n-night  than  a  ch-ch-church 
member  should  t-t-take." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  said  one  of  his  friends. 

"Well,  you  s-s-see,  this  m-m-morning 
when  I  c-came  to  b-b-breakfast  my  wife 
s-s-said — '  William  Travers  what  was  the 
m-m-matter  with  you  last  n-n-night? 
You  stood  beside  the  b-b-bed  for  some- 
time 1-1-looking  at  me  and  finally  s-s-said 
—  Well  Is-s-swear  you  two  girls  look  enough 
alike  to-to-to  be  sisters.' " 


A  PARROT  STORY. 

MR.  TRAVERS,  went  into  a  bird-fancier's 
in  Centre  street,  to  buy  a  parrot. 

"H-h-have  you  got  a-a-all  kinds  of  b- 
b-birds  ?  "  asked  Mr.  T. 

"Yes,  sir,  all  kinds,"  said  the  bird- 
fancier  politely. 

"  I  w-w-want  to  b-buy  a  p-p-parrot," 
hesitated  Mr.  T. 

"  Well,  here  is  a  beauty.  See  what 
glittering  plumage ! " 

"  I-i-is  he  a  g-g-good  t-talker  ?  "  stam- 
mered Travers. 

"  If  he  can't  talk  better  than  you  can 
I'll  give  him  to  you,"  exclaimed  the  shop- 
keeper. 

William  bought  the  parrot. 


THE  RAT  STORY. 

"MR.  TRAVERS,"  says  Jay  Gould, 
"  once  went  down  to  a  dog-fancier's  in 
Water  street,  to  buy  a  rat-terrier. 

"'Is  she  a  g-g-good    ratter?'    asked 


Travers  as  he  poked  a  little,  shivering 
pup  with  his  cane. 

'"Yes,  sir;  splendid!  I'll  show  you 
how  he'll  go  for  a  rat,'  said  the  dog- 
fancier — and  then  he  put  him  in  a  box 
with  a  big  rat." 

"  How  did  it  turn  out  ?  "  I  asked  Mr. 
Gould. 

"  Why,  the  rat  made  one  dive  and  laid 
out  the  frightened  terrier  in  a  second,  but 
Travers  turned  around,  and  sez  he — '  I 
say,  Johnny,  w-w-what'll  ye  t-t-take  for 
ther-r-rat?'" 


TRAVERS  AND   CLEWS. 

HENRY  CLEWS,  the  well-known  bald- 
headed  banker,  who  always  prides  him- 
self on  being  a  self-made  man,  during  a 
recent  talk  with  Mr.  Travers  had  occasion 
to  remark  that  he  was  the  architect  of  his 
own  destiny — that  he  was  a  self-made 
man. 

"  W-w-what  d-did  you  s-ay,  Mr.  Clews?" 
asked  Mr.  Travers. 

"  I  say  with  pride,  Mr.  Travers,  that  I 
am  a  self-made  man — that  I  made  my- 
self—" 

"Hold,  H-henry,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Travers,  as  he  dropped  his  cigar,  "  w- while 
you  were  m-m-making  yourself,  why  the 
devil  d-did-didn't  you  p-put  some  more 
hair  on  the  top  of  y-your  h-head  ?  " 


TRAVERS  ON  FISK  AND  GOULD. 

ONE  day  last  summer,  Colonel  Fisk 
was  showing  Mr.  Travers  over  the  Ply- 
mouth Rock,  the  famous  Long  Branch 
boat.  After  showing  the  rest  of  the  vessel, 
he  pointed  to  two  large  portraits  of  him- 
self and  Mr.  Gould,  hanging,  a  little  dis- 
tance apart,  at  the  head  of  the  stairway. 

"There,"  says  the  Colonel,' "  what  do 
you  think  of  them?" 

"They're  good,  Colonel — you  hanging 
on  one  side  and  Gould  on  the  other; 
f-i-r-s-t  rate.  But,  Colonel,"  continued 
the  wicked  Mr.  Travers,  buried  in  thought, 

w-w- where's  our  Saviour?  " 

Mr.  Travers,  who  is  a  vestryman  in 
Grace  Church,  says  he  knows  it  was 
wicked,  but  he  couldn't  h:ive  helped  it  if 
ae'd  been  on  his  dying  bed. 


326 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


SHE    STOOPS    TO    CONQUER; 

OR,  THE  MISTAKES  OF  A  NIGHT. 

WHATEVER  be  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  Comedies 
that  Goldsmith  has  left  us — and  each  has  its  advocates 
for  the  superiority — there  is  no  douht  that  "  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer "  is  that  upon  which  his  character  as  a 
dramatic  writer  most  securely  rests.  It  was  produced 
for  the  first  time  on  the  15th  March,  1773,  at  Covent 
Garden ;  was  received  with  a  heartiness  of  applause 
that  carried  everything — even  the  solitary  hiss  of  an 
envious  enemy — before  it,  and  secured  its  triumph— a 
triumph  that  was  nightly  renewed  till  the  end  of  the 
season.  The  main  incident  in  the  piece,  round  which 
all  the  others  revolve,  is  the  mistaking  Squire  Hard- 
castle's  house  for  a  country  inn,  an  idea  suggested  by 
a  joke  played  off  on  Goldsmith  in  bis  sixteenth  year  by  a 
wag  in  Ardagh,  who  directed  him  to  Squire  Fether- 
stone'e,  as  the  village  inn,  where  the  joke  was  humored 
and  undiscovered  till  night.  The  play  is  full  of  broad, 
farciful  humor,  relieved  with  some  passages  of  a  senti- 
mental nature ;  and,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  there 
Is  no  violation  of  decorum.  Tony  Lnmpkin  is  a  charac- 
ter svi  generis ;  one  that  has  come  to  have  an  individual 
reality,  as  well  known  to  us  as  "  Bob  Acres  "  or  "  Scrub." 
Old  Hardcastle,  with  all  hia  old-fashioned  whimsicalities, 
is  true  to  nature — overdrawn  just  enough  for  stage 
effect ;  and  the  extravagances  of  his  wife  are  highly  en- 
tertaining. There  is  a  constant  vivacity  in  the  dialogue 
that  amuses,  and  a  frequent  recurrence  of  the  ludi- 
crous, which  is  irresistibly  provocative  of  laughter,  and 
mak"s  us  feel  the  truth  of  Dr.  Johnson's  criticism: 
"  I  know  no  comedy,  for  many  years,  that  has  so  much 
exhilarated  an  audience;  that  has  answered  so  much 
the  great  end  of  comedy,  making  an  audience  merry." 

DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


SIR  CHARLES  MARLOW. 
YOUNG  MARLOW  (HIS 

SON). 

HARDCASTLE. 
HASTINGS. 
TONY  LUMPKIN. 

DlGGORY. 


MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 
Miss  HARDCASTLB. 
Miss  NEVILLE. 
MAID. 


Landlord,  Servants, 
&c.,  &c. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — A  scene  in  an  old-fashioned 
house. 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  and  MB. 
HARDCASTLE. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I  vow,  Mr.  Hardcastle, 
you're  very  particular.  Is  there  a  crea- 
ture in  the  whole  country,  but  ourselves, 
that  does  not  take  a  trip  to  town  now  and 
then  to  rub  off  the  rust  a  little  ?  There's 
the  two  Miss  Hoggs,  and  our  neighbor 


Mrs.  Grigsby,  go  to  take  a  month's  polish* 
ing  every  winter. 

Hard.  Ay,  and  bring  back  vanity  and 
affectation  to  last  them  the  whole  year.  I 
wonder  why  London  cannot  keep  its  own 
fools  at  home.  In  my  time,  the  follies  of 
the  town  crept  slowly  among  us,  but  now 
they  travel  faster  than  a  stage-coach.  Its 
fopperies  come  down,  not  only  as  inside 
passengers,  but  in  the  very  basket. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ay,  your  times  were  fine 
times,  indeed ;  you  have  been  telling  us 
of  them  for  many  a  long  year.  Here  we 
live  in  an  old  rumbling  mansion,  that 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  an  inn,  but 
that  we  never  see  company.  Our  best 
visitors  are  old  Mrs.  Oddfish,  the  curate's 
wife,  and  little  Cripplegate,  the  lame 
dancing-master ;  and  all  our  entertain- 
ment, your  old  stories  of  Prince  Eugene 
and  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  I  hate 
such  old-fashioned  trumpery. 

Hard.  And  I  love  it.  I  love  every- 
thing that's  old :  old  friends,  old  times, 
old  manners,  old  books,  old  wine  ;  and,  I 
believe,  Dorothy  (taking  her  hand),  you'll 
own  I  have  been  pretty  fond  of  an  old 
wife. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Lord,  Mr.  Hardcastle, 
you're  for  ever  at  your  Dorothys,  and  your 
old  wives.  You  may  be  a  Darby,  but  I'll 
be  no  Joan,  I  promise  you.  I'm  not  so 
old  as  you'd  make  me,  by  more  than  one 
good  year.  Add  twenty  to  twenty,  and 
make  money  of  that. 

Hard.  Let  me  see;  twenty  added  to 
twenty,  makes  just  fifty  and  seven. 

Mrs.  Hard.  It's  false,  Mr.  Hardcastle: 
I  was  but  twenty  when  Tony,  that  I  had 
by  Mr.  Lumpkin,  my  first  husband,  was 
born ;  and  he's  not  come  to  years  of  dis- 
cretion yet. 

Hard.  Nor  ever  will,  I  dare  answer 
for  him.  Ay,  you  have  taught  him  finely. 

Mrs.  Hard.  No  matter,  Tony  Lump- 
kin  has  a  good  fortune.  My  son  is  not  to 
live  by  his  learning.  I  don't  think  a  boy 
wants  much  learning  to  spend  fifteen 
hundred  a  year. 

Hard.  Learning,  quotha !  a  mere  com- 
position of  tricks  and  mischief. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Humor,  my  dear ;  nothing 
but  humor.  Come,  Mr.  .Hardcastle,  you 
must  allow  the  boy  a  little  humor. 

Hard.  I'd  sooner  allow  him  a  horse- 
pond.  If  burning  the  footman's  shoes, 
frightening  the  maids,  worrrying  the  kit- 
tens— be  humor,  he  has  it.  It  wa»  but 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


327 


/esterday  he  fastened  my  wig  to  the  back 
of  my  chair,  and  when  I  went  to  make  a 
bow,  I  popt  my  bald  head  in  Mrs.  Frizzle's 
face. 

Mrs.  Hard.  And  am  I  to  blame  ?  The 
poor  boy  was  always  too  sickly  to  do  any 
good.  A  school  would  be  his  death. 
When  he  comes  to  be  a  little  stronger, 
who  knows  what  a  year  or  two's  Latin 
may  do  for  him  ? 

Hard.  Latin  for  him !  A  cat  and  fiddle. 
No,  no,  the  ale-house  and  the  stable  are 
the  only  schools  he'll  ever  go  to. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Well,  we  must  not  snub 
the  poor  boy  now,  for  I  believe  we  shan't 
have  him  long  among  us.  Anybody  that 
looks  in  his  face  may  see  he's  consumptive. 

Hard.  Ay,  if  growing  too  fat  be  one  of 
the  symptoms. 

Mrs.  Hard.    He  coughs  sometimes. 

Hard.  Yes,  when  his  liquor  goes  the 
wrong  way. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I'm  actually  afraid  of  his 
lungs. 

Hard.  And  truly  so  am  I ;  for  he  some- 
times whoops  like  a  speaking  trumpet. — 
(TONY  hallooing  behind  the  scenes) — Oh, 
there  he  goes — a  very  consumptive  figure, 
truly. 

Enter  TONY,  crossing  the  stage. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Tony,  where  are  you  going, 
my  charmer?  Won't  you  give  papa  and 
me  a  little  of  your  company,  lovee? 

Tony.  I'm  in  haste,  mother !  I  cannot 
stay. 

Mrs.  Hard.  You  shan't  venture  out 
this  raw  evening,  my  dear ;  you  look  most 
shockingly. 

Tony.  I  can't  stay,  I  tell  you.  The 
Three  Pigeons  expects  me  down  every 
moment.  There's  some  fun  going  forward. 

Hard.  Ay;  the  ale-house,  the  old 
place  ;  I  thought  so. 

Mrs.  Hard.  A  low,  paltry  set  of  fellows. 

Tony.  Not  so  low  neither.  There's  Dick 
Muggins  the  excise  man,  Jack  Slang  the 
horse-doctor,  little  Aminadab  that  grinds 
the  music-box,  and  Tom  Twist  that  spins 
the  pewter  platter. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Pray,  my  dear,  disappoint 
them  for  one  night  at  least. 

Tony.  As  for  disappointing  them,  I 
should  not  so  much  mind ;  but  I  can't 
abide  to  disappoint  myself. 

Mrs.  Hard.  (Detaining  him.}  You 
shan't  go. 

Tony.    I  will,  I  tell  you. 


Mrs.  Hard.    I  say  you  shan't. 
Tony.  We'll  see  which  is  the  strongest, 
you  or  II  (Exit,  hauling  her  out.) 

HARDCASTLE,  solus. 

Hard.  Ay,  there  goes  a  pair  that  only 
spoil  each  other.  But  is  not  the  whole  age 
in  a  combination  to  drive  sense  and  dis- 
cretion out  of  doors  ?  There's  my  pretty 
darling  Kate ;  the  fashions  of  the  times 
have  almost  infected  her  too.  By  living 
a  year  or  two  in  town,  she  is  as  fond  of 
gauze,  and  French  frippery,  as  the  best 
of  them. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

Hard.  Blessings  on  my  pretty  inno- 
cence !  Drest  out  as  usual,  my  Kate. 
Goodness  !  What  a  quantity  of  super- 
fluous silk  hast  thou  got  about  thee,  girl ! 
I  could  never  teach  the  fools  of  this  age 
that  the  indigent  world  could  be  clothed 
out  of  the  trimmings  of  the  vain. 

Miss  Hard.  You  know  our  agreement, 
sir.  You  allow  me  the  morning  to  re- 
ceive and  pay  visits,  and  to  dress  in  my 
own  manner;  and  in  the  evening,  I  put 
on  my  housewife's  dress  to  please  you. 

Hard.  Well,  remember  I  insist  on  the 
terms  of  our  agreement ;  and,  by  the  bye, 
I  believe  I  shall  have  occasion  to  try 
your  obedience  this  very  evening. 

Miss  Hard.  I  protest,  sir,  I  don't  com- 
prehend your  meaning. 

Hard.  Then,  to  be  plain  with  you, 
Kate,  I  expect  the  young  gentleman  I 
have  chosen  to  be  your  husband  from 
town  this  very  day.  I  have  his  father'* 
letter,  in  which  he  informs  me  his  son  is 
set  out,  and  that  he  intends  to  follow 
himself  shortly  after. 

Miss  Hard.  Indeed  I  I  wish  I  had 
known  something  of  this  before.  Bless 
me,  how  shall  I  behave  ?  It's  a  thousand 
to  one  I  shan't  like  him ;  our  meeting 
will  be  so  formal,  and  so  like  a  thing  of 
business  that  I  shall  find  no  room  for 
friendship  or  esteem. 

Hard.  Depend'upon  it,  child,  I'll  never 
control  your  choice;  but  Mr.  Marlow, 
whom  I  have  pitched  upon,  is  the  son  of 
my  old  friend,  Sir  Charles  Marlow,  of 
whom  you  have  heard  me  talk  so  often. 
The  young  gentleman  has  been  bred  a 
scholar,  and  is  designed  for  an  employ- 
ment in  the  service  of  his  country.  I  am 
told  he's  a  man  of  excellent  understand* 
ing. 

Miss  Hard.  Is  he  ? 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Hard-  Very  generous. 

Miss  Hard.  I  believe  I  shall  like  him. 

Hard.  Young  and  brave. 

Miss  Hard.  I'm  sure  I  shall  like  him. 

Hard.  And  very  handsome. 

Miss  Hard.  My  dear  papa,  say  no  more 
(kissing  his  hand);  he's  mine,  I'll  have 
him! 

Hard.  And  to  crown  all,  Kate,  he's 
one  of  the  most  bashful  and  reserved 
young  fellows  in  the  world. 

Miss  Hard.  Eh !  you  have  frozen  me 
to  death  again.  That  word  reserved  has 
undone  all  the  rest  of  his  accomplish- 
ments. A  reserved  lover,  it  is  said,  al- 
ways makes  a  suspicious  husband. 

Hard.  On  the  contrary,  modesty  sel- 
dom resides  in  a  breast  that  is  not  en- 
riched with  nobler  virtues.  It  was  the 
very  feature  in  his  character  that  first 
struck  me. 

Miss  Hard.  He  must  have  more  strik- 
ing features  to  catch  me,  I  promise  you. 
However,  if  he  be  so  young,  so  handsome, 
and  so  everything,  as  you  mention,  I  be- 
lieve he'll  do  still.  I  think  I'll  have 
him. 

Hard.  Ay,  Kate,  but  there  is  still  an 
obstacle.  It's  more  than  an  even  wager, 
he  may  not  have  you. 

Miss  Hard.  My  dear  papa,  why  will 
you  mortify  one  so  ?  Well,  if  he  refuses, 
instead  of  breaking  my  heart  at  his  indif- 
ference, I'll  only  break  my  glass  for  its 
flattery,  set  my  cap  to  some  newer  fash- 
ion, and  look  out  for  some  less  difficult 
admirer. 

Hard.  Bravely  resolved  !  In  the  mean- 
time I'll  go  prepare  the  servants  for  his 
reception  ;  as  we  seldom  see  company, 
they  want  as  much  training  as  a  company 
of  recruits  the  first  day's  muster.  (Exit.) 

Miss  HARDCASTLE,  sola. 

Miss  Hard.  This  news  of  papa's  puts 
me  all  in  a  flutter.  Young — handsome  ; 
these  he  puts  last ;  but  I  put  them  fore- 
most. Sensible — good-natured :  I  like  all 
that.  But  then — reserved,  and  sheepish : 
that's  much  against  him.  Yet,  can't  he 
be  cured  of  his  timidity,  by  being  taught 
to  be  proud  of  his  wife  ?  Yes ;  and  can't 
I — But,  I  vow,  I'm  disposing  of  the  hus- 
band, before  I  have  secured  the  lover. 

Efater  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Miss  Hard.  I'm  glad  you're  come, 
Neville,  my  dear.  Tell  me,  Constance : 


how  do  I  look  this  evening  ?  Is  there 
anything  whimsical  about  me  ?  Is  it  one 
of  my  well-looking  days,  child?  Am  I  in 
face  to-day? 

Miss  Nev.  Perfectly,  my  dear.  Yet, 
now  I  look  again — bless  me ! — sure  no  ac- 
cident has  happened  among  the  canary 
birds,  or  the  gold  fishes.  Has  your  brother 
or  the  cat  been  meddling?  Or,  has  the 
last  novel  been  too  moving  ? 

Miss  Hard.  No ;  nothing  of  all  this. 
I  have  been  threatened — I  can  scarce  get 
it  out — I  have  .been  threatened  with  a 
lover. 

Miss  Nev.    And  his  name 

Miss  Hard.    Is  Marlow. 

Miss  Nev.    Indeed! 

Miss  Hard.  The  son  of  Sir  Charles 
Marlow. 

Miss  Nev.  As  I  live,  the  most  intimate 
friend  of  Mr.  Hastings,  my  admirer.  They 
are  never  asunder.  I  believe  you  must 
have  seen  him  when  we  lived  in  town. 

Miss  Hard.    Never. 

Miss  Nev.  He's  a  very  singular  char- 
acter, I  assure  you.  Among  women  of 
reputation  and  virtue,  he  is  the  modestest 
man  alive ;  but  his  acquaintance  give  him 
a  very  different  character  among  crea- 
tures of  another  stamp :  you  understand 
me. 

Miss  Hard.  An  odd  character,  indeed. 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  manage  him. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  Pshaw,  think  no  more 
of  him,  but  trust  to  occurrences  for  suc- 
cess. But  how  goes  on  your  own  affair, 
my  dear?  Has  my  mother  been  courting 
you  for  my  brother  Tony,  as  usual  ? 

Miss  Nev.  I  have  just  come  from  one 
of  our  agreeable  te'te-a-te'tes.  She  has 
been  saying  a  hundred  tender  things,  and 
setting  off  her  pretty  monster  as  the  very 
pink  of  perfection. 

Miss  Hard.  And  her  partiality  is  such, 
that  she  actually  thinks  him  so.  A  for- 
tune like  yours  is  no  small  temptation. 
Besides,  as  she  has  the  sole  management 
of  it,  I'm  not  surprised  to  see  her  unwill- 
ing to  let  it  go  out  of  the  family. 

Miss  Nev.  A  fortune  like  mine,  which 
chiefly  consists  in  jewels,  is  no  mighty 
temptation.  But  at  any  rate,  if  my  dear 
Hastings  be  but  constant,  I  make  no 
doubt  to  be  too  hard  for  her  at  last.  How- 
ever, I  let  her  suppose  that  I  am  in  love 
with  her  son,  and  she  never  once  dreams 
that  my  affections  are  fixed  upon  another. 

Miss  Hard.    My  good  brother  hold* 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


329 


out  stoutly.  I  could  almost  love  him  for 
hating  you  so. 

Miss  Nev.  It  is  a  good-natured  crea- 
ture at  bottom,  and  I'm  sure  would  wish 
to  see  me  married  to  anybody  but  him- 
self. But  my  aunt's  bell  rings  for  our 
afternoon  walk  round  the  improvements. 
Allans  I  Courage  is  necessary,  as  our  af- 
fairs are  critical. 

Miss  Hard.  Would  it  were  bed-time, 
and  all  were  well.  (Exeunt.) 

SCENE  II. — An  ale-house  room.  Several 
shabby  Fellows,  with  punch  and  to- 
bacco. TONY  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
a  little  higher  than  the  rest :  a  mallet 
in  his  hand. 

Omnes.    Hu  rrea,  hurrea,  hurrea,  bravo  I 

1  Fel.  Now,  gentlemen,  silence  for  a 
song.  The  'squire  is  going  to  knock  him- 
self down  for  a  song. 

Omnes.    Ay,  a  song,  a  song ! 

Tony.  Then  I'll  sing  you,  gentlemen, 
a  song  I  made  upon  this  ale-house,  the 
Three  Pigeons. 

SONG. 

Let  schoolmasters  puzzle  their  brain, 

With  grammar,  and  nonsense,  and  learning ; 
Good  liquor,  I  stoutly  maintain, 

Gives  genus  a  better  discerning. 
Let  them  brag  of  their  heathenish  gods, 

Their  Lethes,  their  Styxes,  and  Stygians; 
Their  quit,  and  their  qiuzs,  and  their  quods 

They're  all  but  a  parcel  of  pigeons. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

When  Methodist  preachers  come  down, 

A  preaching  that  drinking  is  sinful, 
I'll  wager  the  rascals  a  crown, 

They  always  preach  best  with  a  skin-full. 
But  when  you  come  down  with  your  pence, 

For  a  slice  of  their  scurvy  religion, 
I'll  leave  it  to  all  men  of  sense, 

But  you,  my  good  friend,  are  the  pigeon. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

Then  come,  put  the  jorum' about, 

And  let  us  be  merry  and  clever ; 
Our  hearts  and  our  liquors  are  stout, 

Here's  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  for  ever  1 
Let  some;  cry  up  woodcock  or  hare, 

Tour  bustards,  your  ducks,  and  your  widgeons, 
But  of  all  the  birds  in  the  air, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  ! 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

Omnes.     Bravo !  bravo  ! 
1  Fel.    The  'squire  has  got  spunk  in 
him. 


2  Fel.    I  loves  to  hear  him  sing,  be- 
keays  he  never  gives  us  nothing  that's 
low. 

3  Fel.    Oh,  nothing  that's  low,  I  can- 
not bear  it. 

4  Fel.    The  genteel  thing  is  the  genteel 
thing  any  time.     If  so  be  that  a  gentle- 
man bees  in  a  concatenation  accordingly. 

3  Fel.  I  like  the  maxum  of  it,  Master 
Muggins.  What  though  I  am  obligated 
to  dance  a  bear  ?  a  man  may  be  a  gentle- 
man for  all  that.  May  this  be  my  poison, 
if  my  bear  ever  dances  but  to  the  very  gen- 
teelest  of  tunes;  "Water  parted,"  or 
"  The  minuet  in  Ariadne." 

2  Fel.  What  a  pity  it  is  the  'squire  is 
not  come  to  his  own  I  It  would  be  well 
for  all  the  publicans  within  ten  miles 
round  of  him. 

Tony.  Ecod,  and  so  it  would,  Master 
Slang.  I'd  then  show  what  it  was  to  keep 
choice  of  company. 

2  Fel.  Oh,  he  takes  after  his  own 
father  for  that.  To  be  sure,  old  'squire 
Lumpkin  was  the  finest  gentleman  I  ever 
set  my  eyes  on.  For  winding  the  straight 
horn,  or  beating  a  thicket  for  a  hare,  he 
never  had  his  fellow.  It  was  a  saying  in 
the  place,  that  he  kept  the  best  horses 
and  dogs  in  the  whole  county. 

Tony.  Ecod,  and  when  I'm  of  age  I'll 
be  my  father's  son,  I  promise  you !  I 
have  been  thinking  of  Bet  Bouncer,  and 
the  miller's  grey  mare  to  begin  with.  But 
come,  my  boys,  drink  about  and  be 
merry,  for  you  pay  no  reckoning.  Well, 
Stingo,  what's  the  matter? 


Enter  LANDLORD. 

Land.  There  be  two  gentlemen  in  a 
post-chaise  at  the  door.  They  have  lost 
their  way  upo'  the  forest ;  and  they  are 
talking  something  about  Mr.  Hardcastle. 

Tony.  As  sure  as  can  be,  one  of  them 
must  be  the  gentleman  that's  coming 
down  to  court  my  sister.  Do  they  seem  to 
be  Londoners? 

Land.  I  believe  they  may.  They  look 
woundily  like  Frenchmen. 

Tony.  Then  desire  them  to  step 
this  way,  and  I'll  set  them  right  in  a 
twinkling.  (Exit  LANDLORD.)  Gentle- 
men, as  they  mayn't  be  good  enough  com- 
pany for  you,  step  down  for  a  moment, 
and  I'll  be  with  you  in  the  squeezing  of  a 
lemon.  (Exeunt  mob.} 


330 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


TONY,  solus. 
Tony.  Father-in-law  has  been  calling 
me  whelp,  and  hound,  this  half  year. 
Now  if  I  pleased,  I  could  be  so  revenged 
upon  the  old  gmmbletonian.  But  then 
I'm  afraid — afraid  of  what  ?  I  shall  soon 
be  worth  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and  let 
him  frighten  me  out  of  that  if  he  can. 


Enter   LANDLORD  conducting  MARLOW 
and  HASTINGS. 

Marl.  What  a  tedious,  uncomfortable 
day  have  we  had  of  it  ?  We  were  told  it 
was  but  forty  miles  across  the  country, 
and  we  have  come  above  three-score. 

Hast.  And  all,  Marlow,  from  that  un- 
accountable reserve  of  yours,  that  would 
not  let  us  inquire  more  frequently  on  the 
way. 

Marl.  I  own,  Hastings,  I  am  unwil- 
ling to  lay  myself  under  an  obligation  to 
every  one  I  meet:  and  often  stand  the 
chance  of  an  unmannerly  answer. 

Hast.  At  present,  however,  we  are  not 
Hkely  to  receive  any  answer. 

Tony.  No  offence,  gentlemen  ;  but  I'm 
told  you  have  been  inquiring  for  one 
Mr,  Hardcastle,  in  those  parts.  Do  you 
know  what  part  of  the  country  you  are  in  ? 

Hast.  Not  in  the  least,  sir ;  but  should 
thank  you  for  information. 

Tony.    Nor  the  way  you  came? 

Hast .  ''  No,  sir ;  but  if  you  can  inform 
us 

Tony.  Why,  gentlemen,  if  you  know 
neither  the  road  you  are  going,  nor  where 
you  are,  nor  the  road  you  came,  the  first 
thing  I  have  to  inform  you  is,  that — you 
have  lost  your  way. 

Marl.  We  wanted  no  ghost  to  tell  us 
that. 

Tony.  Pray,  gentlemen,  may  I  be  so 
bold  as  to  ask  the  place  from  whence  you 
came  ? 

Marl.  That's  not  necessary  towards  di- 
recting us  where  we  are  to  go. 

Tony.  No  offence;  but  question  for 
question  is  all  fair,  you  know.  Pray,  gen- 
;lemen,  is  not  this  same  Hardcastle  a 
tross-grained,  old-fashioned,  whimsical 
fellow  with  an  ugly  face ;  a  daughter,  and 
»  pretty  son  ? 

Hast.     We  have  not  seen  the  gentle 
man ;  but  he  has  the  family  you  mention. 

Tony.  The  daughter,  a  tall  trapesing, 
trolloping,  talkative  May-pole.  The  son, 


a  pretty,  well-bred,  agreeable  youth,  that 
everybody  is  fond  of. 

Marl.  Our  information  differs  in  this. 
The  daughter  is  said  to  be  well-bred  and 
beautiful ;  the  son  an  awkward  booby, 
reared  up,  and  spoiled  at  his  mother'a 
apron-strings. 

Tony.  He-he-hem !  Then,  gentlemen, 
all  I  have  to  tell  you  is,  that  you  won't 
reach  Mr.  Hardcastle's  house  this  nighty 
I  believe. 

Hast.    Unfortunate ! 

Tony.  It's  a  long,  dark,  boggy,  dirty, 
dangerous  way.  Stingo,  tell  the  gentle- 
men the  way  to  Mr.  Hardcastle's  (wink- 
ing upon  the  landlord]  ;  Mr.  Hardcastle'a 
of  Quagmire  Marsh  ;  you  understand  me. 

Land.  Master  Hardcastle's  ?  Lack-a- 
daisy,  my  masters,  you're  come  a  deadly 
deal  wrong  1  When  you  came  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  hill,  you  should  have  crossed 
down  Squash  Lane. 

Marl.    Cross  down  Squash  Lane  ? 

Land.  Then  you  were  to  keep  straight 
forward,  till  you  came  to  four  roads. 

Marl.    Come  to  where  four  roads  meet  I 

Tony.  Ay;  but  you  must  be  sure  to 
take  only  one  of  them. 

Marl.    Oh,  sir,  you're  facetious. 

Tony.  Then  keeping  to  the  right,  you 
are  to  go  sideways  till  you  come  upon 
Crack-skull  Common :  there  you  must 
look  sharp  for  the  track  of  the  wheel,  and 
go  forward,  till  you  come  to  farmer  Mur- 
rain's barn.  Coming  to  the  farmer's  barn, 
you  are  to  turn  to  the  right,  and  then  to 
the  left,  and  then  to  the  right-about  again, 
till  you  find  out  the  old  mill 

Marl.  Zounds,  man  I  we  could  as  soon 
find  out  the  longitude  I 

Hast.    What's  to  be  done,  Marlow  ? 

Marl.  This  house  promises  but  a  poor 
reception ;  though  perhaps  the  landlord 
can  accommodate  us. 

Land.  Alack !  master,  we  have  but 
one  spare  bed  in  the  whole  house. 

Tony.  And,  to  my  knowledge,  that's 
taken  up  by  three  lodgers  already  (After 
a  pause,  in  which  the  rest  seem  disconcerted.) 
I  have  hit  it.  Don't  you  think,  Stingo, 
our  landlady  would  accommodate  the 
gentlemen  by  the  fire-side,  with — three 
chairs  and  a  bolster? 
Hast.  I  hate  sleeping  by  the  fire-side, 
Marl.  And  I  detest  your  three  chairs 
and  a  bolster. 

Tony.  You  do,  do  you  ?  Then  let  me 
see — what  if  you  go  on  a  mile  further,  to 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


331 


the  Buck's  Head ;  the  old  Buck's  Head  on 
the  hill,  one  of  the  best  inns  in  the  whole 
county  ? 

Hast.  Oh,  ho !  so  we  have  escaped  an 
adventure  for  this  night,  however. 

Land.  (Apart  to  Tony.}  Sure  you 
ben't  sending  them  to  your  father's  as  an 
inn,  be  you  ? 

Tony.  Mum,  you  fool  you !  Let  them 
find  that  out.  (To  them.} — You  have  only 
to  keep  on  straight  forward,  till  you  come 
to  a  large  old  house  by  the  roadside. 
You'll  see  a  pair  of  large  horns  over  the 
door.  That's  the  sign.  Drive  up  the 
yard,  and  call  stoutly  about  you. 

Hast.  Sir,  we  are  obliged  to  you.  The 
servants  can't  miss  the  way. 

Tony.  No,  no.  But  I  tell  you,  though, 
the  landlord  is  rich  and  going  to  leave  off 
business ;  so  he  wants  to  be  thought  a 
gentleman,  saving  your  presence,  he  !  he  ! 
he !  He'll  be  for  giving  you  his  company, 
and  ecod,  if  you  mind  him,  he'll  persuade 
you  that  his  mother  was  an  alderman,  and 
his  aunt  a  justice  of  peace. 

Land.  A  troublesome  old  blade,  to  be 
sure  ;  but  a  keeps  as  good  wines  and  beds 
as  any  in  the  whole  country. 

Marl.  Well,  if  he  supplies  us  with 
these,  we  shall  want  no  further  connec- 
tion. We  are  to  turn  to  the  right,  did  you 
say? 

Tony.  No,  no ;  straight  forward.  I'll 
just  step  myself,  and  show  you  a  piece  of 
the  way.  (To  the  landlord}.  Mum. 

Land.  Ah,  you  are  a  sweet,  pleasant — 
mischievous  humbug.  (Exeunt.} 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — An  old-fashioned  house. 

Enter  HARDCASTLE,  folloived  by  three  or 

four  awkward  Servants. 

Hard.  Well,  I  hope  you're  perfect  in 
the  table  exercise  I  have  been  teaching 
you  these  three  days.  You  all  know  your 
posts  and  your  places ;  and  can  show  that 
you  have  been  used  to  good  company, 
without  ever  stirring  from  home. 

Omnes.     Ay,  ay. 

Hard.  When  company  comes,  you  are 
not  to  pop  out  and  stare,  and  then  run  in 
again,  like  frighted  rabbits  in  a  warren. 

Omnes.     No,  no. 

Hard.    You,  Diggory,  whom  I  have 


taken  from  the  barn,  are  to  make  a  show 
at  the  side-table ;  and  you,  Boger,  whom 
I  have  advanced  from  the  plough,  are  to 
place  yourself  behind  my  chair.  But 
you're  not  to  stand  so,  with  your  hands  in 
your  pockets.  Take  your  hands  from  your 
pockets,  Roger ;  and  from  your  head,  you 
blockhead  you.  See  how  Diggory  carries 
his  hands.  They're  a  little  too  stiff,  in- 
deed, but  that's  no  great  matter. 

Digg.  Ay ;  mind  how  I  hold  them.  I 
learned  to  hold  my  hands  this  way,  when 
I  was  upon  drill  for  the  militia.  And  so 
being  upon  drill 

Hard.  You  must  not  be  so  talkative, 
Diggory.  You  must  be  all  attention  to 
the  guests.  You  must  hear  us  talk,  and 
not  think  of  talking ;  you  must  see  us 
drink,  and  not  think  of  drinking;  you 
must  see  us  eat,  and  not  think  of  eating. 

Digg.  By  the  laws,  your  worship,  that's 
parfectly  unpossible.  Whenever  Diggory 
sees  yeating  going  forward,  ecod,  he's  al- 
ways wishing  for  a  mouthful  himself. 

Hard.  Blockhead !  is  not  a  belly- full  in 
the  kitchen  as  good  as  a  belly-full  in  the 
parlour?  Stay  your  stomach  with  that 
reflection. 

Digg.  Ecod,  I  thank  your  worship,  I'll 
make  a  shift  to  stay  my  stomach  with  a 
slice  of  cold  beef  in  the  pantry. 

Hard.  Diggory,  you  are  too  talkative. 
Then  if  I  happen  to  say  a  good  thing,  or 
tell  a  good  story  at  table,  you  must  not  all 
burst  out  a-laughing,  as  if  you  made  part 
of  the  company. 

Digg.  Then,  ecod,  your  worship  must 
not  tell  the  story  of  Ould  Grouse  in  the 
gun-room  :  I  can't  help  laughing  at  that 
— he !  he !  he  I — for  the  soul  of  me.  We 
have  laughed  at  that  these  twenty  years 
— ha !  ha  !  ha ! 

Hard.  Ha!  ha!  ha  I  The  story  is  a 
good  one.  Well,  honest  Diggory,  you 
may  laugh  at  that — but  still  remember  to 
be  attentive.  Suppose  one  of  the  company 
should  call  for  a  glass  of  wine,  how  will 
you  behave  ?  A  glass  of  wine,  sir,  if  you 
please.  ( To  DIGGORY) — Eh,  why  don't 
you  move  ? 

Digg.  Ecod,  your  worship,  I  never 
have  courage  till  I  see  the  eatables  and 
drinkables  brought  upon  the  table,  and 
then  I'm  as  bauld  as  a  lion. 

Hard.    What,  will  nobody  move? 

1  Serv.    I'm  not  to  leave  this  place. 

2  Serv.     I'm  sure  it's  no  place  of  min* 

3  Serv.    Nor  mine,  for  sartain. 


232 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Digg.  Wauns,  and  I'm  sure,  it  canna 
be  mine. 

Hard.  You  numsculls !  and  so  while, 
like  your  betters,  you  are  quarrelling  for 
places,  the  guests  must  be  starved.  Oh, 
you  dunces  !  I  find  I  must  begin  all  over 
again.  But  don't  I  hear  a  coach  drive 
into  the  yard  ?  To  your  post,  you  block- 
heads !  I'll  go  in  the  meantime,  and  give 
my  old  friend's  son  a  hearty  reception  at 
the  gate.  (Exit  HARDCASTLE.) 

Digg.  By  the  elevens,  my  pleace  is 
gone  quite  out  of  my  head. 

Roger.  I  know  that  my  pleace  is  to  be 
everywhere. 

1  Serv.    Where  is  mine  ? 

2  Serv.    My  pleace  is  to  be  nowhere  at 
all ;  and  so  I'/e  go  about  my  business. 
(Exeunt   Servants,    running  about   as    if 
frightened,  different  ways.) 

Enter   Servant    with   candles,  showing  in 
MARLOW  and  HASTINGS. 

Serv.  Welcome,  gentlemen,  very  wel- 
come. This  way. 

Hast.  After  the  disappointments  of  the 
day,  welcome  once  more,  Charles,  to  the 
comforts  of  a  clean  room,  and  a  good  fire. 
Upon  my  word,  a  very  well-looking 
house  ;  antique,  but  creditable. 

Marl.  The  usual  fate  of  a  large  man- 
sion. Having  first  ruined  the  master  by 
good  housekeeping,  it  at  last  comes  to 
levy  contributions  as  an  inn. 

Hast.  As  you  say,  we  passengers  are  to 
be  taxed  to  pay  all  these  fineries.  I  have 
often  seen  a  good  side-board,  or  a  marble 
chimney-piece,  though  not  actually  put  in 
the  bill,  inflame  a  reckoning  confoundedly. 

Marl.  Travellers,  George,  must  pay  in 
all  places.  The  only  difference  is,  that  in 
good  inns  you  pay  dearly  for  luxuries ;  in 
bad  inns  you  are  fleeced  and  starved. 

Hast.  You  have  lived  very  much 
among  them.  In  truth,  I  have  been  often 
surprised,  that  you,  who  have  seen  so 
much  of  the  world,  with  your  natural 
good  sense,  and  your  many  opportunities, 
could  never  yet  acquire  a  requisite  share 
of  assurance. 

Marl.  The  Englishman's  malady.  But 
tell  me,  George,  where  could  I  have 
learned  that  assurance  you  talk  of?  My 
life  has  been  chiefly  spent  in  a  college,  or 
an  inn ;  in  seclusion  from  that  lovely  part 
of  the  creation  that  chiefly  teach  men  con- 
fidence. I  don't  know  that  I  was  ever  fa- 


miliarly acquainted  with  a  single  modest 
woman — except  my  mother. 

Hast.  In  the  company  of  women  of 
reputation,  I  never  saw  such  an  idiot,  such 
a  trembler :  you  look,  for  all  the  world,  as 
if  you  wanted  an  opportunity  of  stealing 
out  of  the  room. 

Marl.  Why,  man,  that's  because  I  do 
want  to  steal  out  of  the  room !  I  have 
often  formed  a  resolution  to  break  the  ice, 
and  rattle  away  at  any  rate.  But  I  don't 
know  how,  a  single  glance  from  a  pair  of 
fine  eyes  has  totally  overset  my  resolution. 
An  impudent  fellow  may  counterfeit  mod- 
esty ;  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  a  modest  man 
can  ever  counterfeit  impudence. 

Hast.  If  you  could  say  but  half  the  fine 
things  to  them  that  I  have  heard  you  lav- 
ish upon  the  barmaid  of  an  inn. 

Marl.  Why,  George,  I  can't  say  fine 
things  to  them.  They  freeze,  they  petrify 
me.  They  may  talk  of  a  comet,  or  a 
burning  mountain,  or  some  such  baga- 
telle :  but  to  me,  a  modest  woman,  drest 
out  in  all  her  finery,  is  the  most  tremen- 
dous object  of  the  whole  creation. 

Hast.  Ha !  ha !  ha  I  At  this  rate,  man, 
how  can  you  ever  expect  to  marry  ? 

Marl.  Never,  unless,  as  among  kings 
and  princes,  my  bride  were  to  be  courted 
by  proxy.  If,  indeed,  like  an  Eastern 
bridegroom,  one  were  to  be  introduced  to 
a  wife  he  never  saw  before,  it  might  be  en- 
dured. But  to  go  through  all  the  terrors 
of  a  formal  courtship,  together  with  the 
episode  of  aunts,  grandmothers  and 
cousins,  and  at  last  to  blurt  out  the  broad- 
star  question  of— Madam,  will  you  marry 
me  f  No,  no ;  that's  a  strain  much  above 
me,  I  assure  you. 

Hast.  I  pity  you.  But  how  do  you  in- 
tend behaving  to  the  lady  you  are  come 
down  to  visit  at  the  request  of  your 
father? 

Marl.  As  I  behave  to  all  other  ladies : 
bow  very  low ;  answer  yes,  or  no,  to  all 
her  demands.  But  for  the  rest,  I  don't 
think  I  shall  venture  to  look  in  her  face, 
till  I  see  my  father's  again. 

Hast.  I  am  surprised  that  one  who  is 
so  warm  a  friend  can  be  so  cool  a  lover. 

Marl.  To  be  explicit,  my  dear  Hast- 
ings, my  chief  inducement  down,  was  to 
be  instrumental  in  forwarding  your  happi- 
ness, not  my  own.  Miss  Seville  loves 
you  ;  the  family  don't  know  you ;  as  my 
friend  you  are  sure  of  a  reception,  and  let 
honour  do  the  rest. 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


333 


Hast.  My  dear  Marlow ! — But  I'll  sup- 
press the  emotion.  Were  I  a  wretch, 
meauly  seeking  to  carry  off  a  fortune,  you 
should  be  the  last  man  in  the  world  I 
would  apply  to  for  assistance.  But  Miss 
Neville's  person  is  all  I  ask ;  and  that  is 
mine,  both  from  her  deceased  father's  con- 
sent, and  her  own  inclination. 

Marl.  Happy  man  !  You  have  talents 
and  art  to  captivate  any  woman.  I  am 
doomed  to  adore  the  sex,  and  yet  to  con- 
verse with  the  only  part  of  it  I  despise. 
This  stammer  in  my  address,  and  this 
awkward  prepossessing  visage  of  mine, 

can  never  permit  me  to  soar Pshaw  ! 

this  fellow  here  to  interrupt  us. 

Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

Hard.  Gentlemen,  once  more  you  are 
heartily  welcome.  Which  is  Mr.  Mar- 
low  ?  Sir,  you're  heartily  welcome.  It's 
not  my  way,  you  see,  to  receive  my  friends 
with  my  back  to  the  fire.  I  like  to  give 
them  a  hearty  reception,  in  the  old  style, 
at  my  gate.  I  like  to  see  their  horses  and 
trunks  taken  care  of. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  He  has  got  our  names 
from  the  servants  already.  (To  him). 

We  approve  your  caution  and  hospi- 
tality, sir.  ( To  HASTINGS) — I  have  been 
thinking,  George,  of  changing  our  travel- 
ling dresses  in  the  morning.  I  am  grown 
confoundedly  ashamed  of  mine. 

Hard.  I  beg,  Mr.  Marlow,  you'll  use 
no  ceremony  in  this  house. 

Hast.  I  fancy,  Charles,  you're  right: 
the  first  blow  is  half  the  battle.  I  intend 
opening  the  campaign  with  the  white  and 
gold. 

Hard.  Mr.  Marlow — Mr.  Hastings — 
gentlemen — pray  be  under  no  restraint  in 
this  house.  This  is  Liberty  Hall,  gentle- 
men. You  may  do  just  as  you  please 
here. 

Marl.  Yet,  George,  if  we  open  the 
campaign  too  fiercely  at  first,  we  may 
want  ammunition  before  it  is  over.  I 
think  to  reserve  the  embroidery  to  secure 
a,  retreat. 

Hard.  Your  talking  of  a  retreat,  Mr. 
Marlow,  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  when  he  went  to  besiege 
Denain.  He  first  summoned  the  gar- 
rison  

Marl.  Don't  you  think  the  venire  d'or 
waistcoat  will  do  with  the  plain  brown  ? 

Hard.  He  first  summoned  the  garrison, 


which  might  consist  of  about  five  thou- 
sand men 

Hast.  I  think  not :  brown  and  yellow 
mix  but  very  poorly. 

Hard.  I  say,  gentlemen,  as  I  was  tell- 
ing you,  he  summoned  the  garrison, 
which  might  consist  of  about  five  thou- 
sand men 

Marl.  The  girls  like  finery. 

Hard.  Which  might  consist  of  about 
five  thousand  men,  well  appointed  with 
stores,  ammunition,  and  other  imple- 
ments of  war.  Now,  says  the  duke  of 
Marlborough  to  George  Brooks  that  stood 
next  to  him — you  must  have  heard  of 
George  Brooks — "I'll  pawn  my  duke- 
dom," says  he,  "  but  I'll  take  that  garri- 
son, without  spilling  a  drop  of  blood." 
So 

Marl.  What,  my  good  friend,  if  you 
give  us  a  glass  of  punch  in  the  mean- 
time ?  It  would  help  us  to  carry  on  the 
siege  with  vigour. 

Hard.  Punch,  sir !  (Aside) — This  is  the 
most  unaccountable  kind  of  modesty  I 
ever  met  with. 

Marl.  Yes,  sir,  punch.  A  glass  of  warm 
punch,  after  our  journey,  will  be  comfort- 
able. This  is  Liberty  Hall,  you  know. 

Hard.  Here's  a  cup,  sir. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  So  this  fellow,  in  his 
Liberty  Hall,  will  only  let  us  have  just 
what  he  pleases. 

Hard.  ( Taking  the  cup.)  I  hope  you'll 
find  it  to  your  mind.  I  have  prepared  it 
with  my  own  hands,  and  I  believe  you'll 
own  the  ingredients  are  tolerable.  Will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  pledge  me,  sir? 
Here,  Mr.  Marlow,  here  is  to  our  better 
acquaintance.  (Drinks.) 

Marl.  (Aside.)  A  very  impudent  fel- 
low this !  but  he's  a  character,  and  I'll 
humor  him  a  little.  (To  him.) — Sir,  my 
service  to  you.  (Drinks.) 

Hast.  (Aside.)  I  see  that  this  fellow 
wants  to  give  us  his  company,  and  for- 
gets that  he's  an  innkeeper  before  he 
has  learned  to  be  a  gentleman. 

Marl.  From  the  excellence  of  your 
cup,  my  old  friend,  I  suppose  you  have  a 
good  deal  of  business  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  Warm  work,  now  and  then,  at 
elections,  I  suppose. 

Hard.  No,  sir,  I  have  long  given  that 
work  over.  Since  our  betters  have  hit 
upon  the  expedient  of  electing  each 
other,  there's  no  business  for  us  that  sell 
ale. 


834 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Hast-  So,  then,  you  have  no  turn  for 
politics,  I  find. 

Hard,  Not  in  the  least.  There  was  a 
time,  indeed,  I  fretted  myself  about  the 
mistakes  of  Government,  like  other  peo- 
ple ;  but  finding  myself  every  day  grow 
more  angry,  and  the  Government  grow- 
ing no  better,  I  left  it  to  mend  itself. 
Since  that,  I  no  more  trouble  my  head 
about  Hyder  Ally,  or  Ally  Cawn,  than 
about  Ally  Croker. — Sir,  my  service  to 
you. 

Hast.  So  that  with  eating  above  stairs, 
and  drinking  below ;  with  receiving  your 
friends  within,  and  amusing  them  with- 
out, you  lead  a  good,  pleasant,  bustling 
life  of  it. 

Hard.  I  do  stir  about  a  great  deal, 
that's  certain.  Half  the  differences  of 
the  parish  are  adjusted  in  this  very  par- 
lour. 

Marl.  (After  drinking.)  And  you  have 
an  argument  in  your  cup,  old  gentleman, 
better  than  any  in  Westminster  Hall. 

Hard.  Ay,  young  gentleman,  that  and 
a  little  philosophy. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  Well,  this  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  of  an  innkeeper's 
philosophy ! 

Hast.  So  then,  like  an  experienced 
general,  you  attack  them  on  every  quar- 
ter. If  you  find  their  reason  manage- 
able, you  attack  it  with  your  philosophy  ; 
if  you  find  they  have  no  reason,  you  at- 
tack them  with  this — Here's  your  health, 
my  philosopher.  (Drinks.) 

Hard.  Good,  very  good,  thank  you ; 
ha!  ha!  Your  generalship  puts  me  in 
mind  of  Prince  Eugene,  when  he  fought 
the  Turks  at  the  battle  of  Belgrade.  You 
shall  hear. 

Marl.  Instead  of  the  battle  of  Bel- 
grade, I  think  it's  almost  time  to  talk 
about  supper.  What  has  your  philosophy 
got  in  the  house  for  supper  ? 

Hard.  For  supper,  sir !  (Aside) — Was 
ever  such  a  request  to  a  man  in  his  own 
house? 

Marl.  Yes,  sir  ;  supper,  sir ;  I  begin  to 
feel  an  appetite.  I  shall  make  sad  work 
to-night  in  the  larder,  I  promise  you. 

Hard.  (Aside.)  Such  a  brazen  dog 
sure  never  my  eyes  beheld.  ( To  him) — 
Why,  really,  sir,  as  for  supper,  I  can't  well 
tell.  My  Dorothy  and  the  cook-maid 
settle  these  things  between  them.  I  leave 
these  kind  of  things  entirely  to  them. 

Marl.     You  do,  do  you  ? 


Hard.  Entirely.  By-the-bye,  I  believe 
they  are  in  actual  consultation,  upon 
what's  for  supper,  this  moment  in  the 
kitchen. 

Marl.  Then  I  beg  they'll  admit  me 
as  one  of  their  privy  council.  It's  a  way 
I  have  got.  When  I  travel,  I  always 
choose  to  regulate  my  own  supper.  Let 
the  cook  be  called.  No  offence,  I  hope, 
sir. 

Hard.  Oh,  no,  sir,  none  in  the  least ; 
yet  I  don't  know  how,  our  Bridget,  the 
cook-maid,  is  not  very  communicative 
upon  these  occasions.  Should  we  send 
for  her,  she  might  scold  us  all  out  of  the 
house. 

Hast.  Let's  see  the  list  of  the  larder, 
then.  I  ask  it  as  a  favor.  I  always 
match  my  appetite  to  my  bill  of  fare. 

Marl.  ( To  HARDOA.STLE,  who  looks  at 
them  with  surprise).  Sir,  he's  very  right, 
and  it's  my  way  too. 

Hard.  Sir,  you  have  a  right  to  com- 
mand here.  Here,  Roger,  bring  us  the 
bill  of  fare  for  to-night's  supper.  I  believe 
it's  drawn  out.  Your  manner,  Mr.  Hast- 
ings, puts  me  in  mind  of  my  uncle,  Colo- 
nel Wallop.  It  was  a  saying  of  his,  that 
no  man  was  sure  of  his  supper  till  he  had 
eaten  it. 

Hast.  (Aside.)  All  upon  the  high 
ropes!  His  uncle  a  colonel!  we  shall 
soon  hear  of  his  mother  being  a  justice  of 
the  peace.  But  let's  hear  the  bill  of  fare. 

Marl.  (Perusing.)  What's  here?  For 
the  first  course;  for  the  second  course; 
for  the  dessert.  Sir,  do  you  think  we 
have  brought  down  the  whole  joiners' 
company,  or  the  corporation  of  Bedford, 
to  eat  up  such  a  supper  ?  Two  or  three 
little  things,  clean  and  comfortable,  will 
do. 

Hast.    But  let's  hear  it. 

Marl.  (Beading.)  For  the  first  course 
at  the  top,  a  pig  and  prunesauce. 

Hast.    I  hate  your  pig,  I  say. 

Marl.  And  I  hate  your  prunesauce, 
say  I. 

Hard.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  to  men 
that  are  hungry,  pig,  with  prunesauce,  is 
very  good  eating. 

Marl.  At  the  bottom,  a  call's  tongue 
and  brains. 

Hast.  Let  your  brains  be  knocked  out, 
my  good  sir ;  I  don't  like  them. 

Marl.  Or  you  may  clap  them  on  a 
plate  by  themselves.  I  do. 

Hard.    (Aside.)   Their  impudence  con- 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


335 


founds  me.  (To  them) — Gentlemen,  you 
are  my  guests,  make  what  alterations  you 
please.  Is  there  anything  else  you  wish 
to  retrench  or  alter,  gentlemen  ? 

Marl.  Item,  a  pork  pie,  a  boiled  rabbit 
and  sausages,  a  florentine,  a  shaking  pud- 
ding, and  a  dish  of  tiff — taff— taffety 
cream ! 

Hast.  Confound  your  made  dishes ! 
I  shall  be  as  much  at  a  loss  in  this  house 
as  at  a  green  and  yellow  dinner  at  the 
French  ambassador's  table.  I'm  for  plain 
eating. 

Hard.  I'm  sorry,  gentlemen,  that  I 
have  nothing  you  like ;  but  if  there  be 
anything  you  have  a  particular  fancy 

Marl.  Why,  sir,  your  bill  of  fare  is  so 
exquisite,  that  any  one  part  of  it  is  full  as 
good  as  another.  Send  us  what  you  please. 
So  much  for  supper  ;  and  now  to  see  that 
our  beds  are  aired  and  properly  taken 
care  of. 

Hard.  I  entreat  you'll  leave  all  that 
to  me.  You  shall  not  stir  a  step. 

Marl.  Leave  that  to  you.  I  protest, 
sir,  you  must  excuse  me ;  I  always  look  to 
these  things  myself. 

Hard.  I  must  insist,  sir,  you'll  make 
yourself  easy  on  that  head. 

Marl.  You  see  I'm  resolved  on  it. 
(Aside) — A  very  troublesome  fellow  this, 
as  ever  I  met  with. 

Hard.  Well,  sir,  I'm  resolved  at  least 
to  attend  you.  (Aside) — This  may  be 
modern  modesty,  but  I  never  saw  anything 
look  so  like  old-fashioned  impudence. 

(Exeunt  MARL,  and  HARD.) 

HASTINGS,  solus. 

Hast.  So  I  find,  this  fellow's  civilities 
begin  to  grow  troublesome.  But  who  can 
be  angry  at  these  assiduities,  which  are 
meant  to  please  him  ?  Ha !  what  do  I 
see  ?  Miss  Neville,  by  all  that's  happy ! 

Enter  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Miss  Nev.  My  dear  Hastings  !  To  what 
unexpected  good  fortune,  to  what  accident 
am  I  to  ascribe  this  happy  meeting  ? 

Hast.  Rather,  let  me  ask  the  same 
question,  as  I  could  never  have  hoped  to 
meet  my  dear  Constance  at  an  inn. 

Miss  Nev.  An  inn  !  sure  you  mistake  ! 
my  aunt,  my  guardian,  lives  here.  What 
could  induce  you  to  think  this  house  an 
inn? 


Hast.  My  friend,  Mr.  Marlow,  with 
whom  I  came  down,  and  I  have  been  sent 
here  as  to  an  inn,  I  assure  you.  A  young 
fellow,  whom  we  accidentally  met  at  a 
house  hard  by,  directed  us  hither. 

Miss  Nev.  Certainly  it  must  be  one  of 
my  hopeful  cousin's  tricks,  of  whom  you 
have  heard  me  talk  so  often,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  I 
ha! 

Hast.  He  whom  your  aunt  intends  for 
you  ?  He  of  whom  I  have  such  just  appre- 
hensions ? 

Miss  Nev.  You  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  him,  I  assure  you.  You'd  adore  him, 
if  you  knew  how  heartily  he  despises  me. 
My  aunt  knows  it  too,  and  has  undertaken 
to  court  me  for  him  ;  and  actually  begins 
to  think  she  has  made  a  conquest. 

Hast.  Thou  dear  dissembler !  You  must 
know,  my  Constance,  I  have  just  seized 
this  happy  opportunity  of  my  friend's 
visit  here,  to  get  admittance  into  the 
family.  The  horses  that  carried  us  down 
are  now  fatigued  with  their  journey  ;  but 
they'll  soon  be  refreshed  ;  and  then,  if 
my  dear  girl  will  trust  in  her  faithful 
Hastings,  we  shall  soon  be  landed  in 
France;  where,  even  among  slaves,  the 
laws  of  marriage  are  respected. 

Miss  Nev.  I  have  often  told  you,  that 
though  ready  to  obey  you,  I  yet  should 
leave  my  little  fortune  behind  with  reluc- 
tance. The  greatest  part  of  it  was  left 
me  by  my  uncle,  the  Indian  director,  and 
chiefly  consists  in  jewels.  I  have  been 
for  some  time  persuading  my  aunt  to  let 
me  wear  them.  I  fancy  I  am  very  near 
succeeding.  The  instant  they. are  put 
into  my  possession,  you  shall  find  me 
ready  to  make  them  and  myself  yours. 

Hast.  Perish  the  baubles !  Your  person 
is  all  I  desire.  In  the  meantime,  my 
friend  Marlow  must  not  be  let  into  his 
mistake ;  I  know  the  strange  reserve  of 
his  temper  is  such,  that  if  abruptly  in- 
formed of  it,  he  would  instantly  quit  the 
house,  before  our  plan  was  ripe  for  exe- 
cution. 

Miss  Nev.  But  how  shall  we  keep  him 
in  the  deception?  Miss  Hardcastle  is 
just  returned  from  walking ;  what  if  we 
still  continue  to  deceive  him?  This,  this 
way.  (They  confer.) 

Enter  MARLOW. 

Marl.  The  assiduities  of  these  good 
people  tease  me  beyond  bearing.  My 


836 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


host  seems  to  think  it  ill  manners  to 
leave  me  alone,  and  so  he  claps  not  only 
himself,  but  his  old-fashioned  wife  on  my 
back.  They  talk  of  coming  to  sup  with 
us  too ;  and  then,  I  suppose,  we  are  to  run 
the  gauntlet  through  all  the  rest  of  the 
family.  What  have  we  got  here? 

Hast.  My  dear  Charles !  Let  me  con- 
gratulate you  I  The  most  fortunate  acci- 
dent! Who  do  you  think  just  alighted? 

Marl.  Cannot  guess. 

Hast.  Our  mistresses,  boy,  Miss  Hard- 
castle  and  Miss  Neville.  Give  me  leave 
to  introduce  Miss  Constance  Neville  to 
your  acquaintance.  Happening  to  dine 
in  the  neighbourhood,  they  called,  on 
their  return,  to  take  fresh  horses  here. 
Miss  Hardcastle  has  just  stept  into  the 
next  room,  and  will  be  back  in  an  in- 
stant. Wasn't  it  lucky,  eh  ? 

Marl.  (Aside.}  I  have  just  been  mor- 
tified enough  or  all  conscience,  and  here 
comes  something  to  complete  my  .em- 
barrassment. 

Hast.  Well,  but  wasn't  it  the  most  for- 
tunate thing  in  the  world  ? 

Marl.  Oh!  Yes.  Very  fortunate — a 
most  joyful  encounter.  But  our  dresses, 
George,  you  know,  are  in  disorder.  What 
if  we  should  postpone  the  happiness  till 
to-morrow?  To-morrow,  at  her  own 
house ;  it  will  be  every  bit  as  convenient, 
and  rather  more  respectful.  To-morrow 
let  it  be.  ( Offering  to  go.) 

Miss  Nev.  By  no  means,  sir.  Your 
ceremony  will  displease  her.  The  dis- 
order of  your  dress  will  show  the  ardour 
of  your  impatience ;  besides,  she  knows 
you  are  in  the  house,  and  will  permit  you 
to  see  her. 

Marl.  Oh!  how  shall  I  support  it? 
Hem !  hem !  Hastings  you  must  not  go. 
You  are  to  assist  me,  you  know.  I  shall 
be  confoundedly  ridiculous.  Yet  hang  itl 
I'll  take  courage.  Hem ! 

Hast.  Pshaw,  man !  it's  but  the  first 
plunge,  and  all's  over.  She's  but  a  woman, 
you  know. 

Marl.  And  of  all  women,  she  that  I 
dread  most  to  encounter. 

Enter  Miss   HABDCASTLE,   as  returning 

from  walking,  in  a  bonnet,  &c. 
Hast.  (Introducing  him.')  Miss  Hard, 
castle — Mr.  Marlow.  I'm  proud  of  bring- 
ing two  persons  of  such  merit  together, 
that  only  want  to  know,  to  esteem  each 
other. 


Miss  Hard.  (Aside.}  Now,  for  meet- 
ing my  modest  gentleman  with  a  demure 
face,  and  quite  in  his  own  manner.  (After 
a  pause,  in  which  he  appears  very  uneasy 
and  disconcerted.}  I'm  glad  of  your  safe 
arrival,  sir.  I'm  told  you  had  some  acci- 
dents by  the  way. 

Marl.  Only  a  few,  madam.  Yes,  we 
had  some.  Yes,  madam,  a  good  many 
accidents;  but  should  be  sorry — madam 
— or  rather  glad  of  any  accidents — that 
are  so  agreeably  concluded.  Hem  1 

Hast.  (To  him.}  You  never  spoke  bet- 
ter in  your  whole  life.  Keep  it  up,  and 
I'll  ensure  you  the  victory. 

Miss  Hard.  I'm  afraid  you  flatter,  sir. 
You,  that  have  seen  so  much  of  the  finest 
company,  can  find  little  entertainment  in 
an  obscure  corner  of  the  country. 

Marl.  (Gathering  courage.}  I  have 
lived,  indeed,  in  the  world,  madam ;  but 
I  have  kept  very  little  company.  I  have 
been  but  an  observer  upon  life,  madam, 
while  others  were  enjoying  it. 

Miss  Nev.  But  that,  I  am  told,  is  the 
way  to  enjoy  it  at  last. 

Hast.  (To  him.}  Cicero  never  spoke 
better.  Once  more,  and  you  are  con- 
firmed in  assurance  for  ever. 

Marl.  (To  him.}  Hem!  Stand  by  me, 
then ;  and  when  I'm  down,  throw  in  a 
word  or  two,  to  set  me  up  again. 

Miss  Hard.  An  observer,  like  you, 
upon  life,  were,  I  fear,  disagreeably  em- 
ployed, since  you  must  have  had  much 
more  to  censure  than  to  approve. 

Marl.  Pardon  me,  madam.  I  was 
always  willing  to  be  amused.  The  folly 
of  most  people  is  rather  an  object  of 
mirth  than  uneasiness. 

Hast.  (To  him.}  Bravo,  bravo.  Never 
spoke  so  well  in  your  whole  life.  Well  I 
( To  Miss  HARD.)  Miss  Hardcastle,  I  see 
that  you  and  Mr.  Marlow  are  going  to  be 
very  good  company.  I  believe  our  being 
here  will  but  embarrass  the  interview. 

Marl.  Not  in  the  least,  Mr.  Hastings. 
We  like  your  company  of  all  things. 
( To  him.}  Zounds !  George,  sure  you 
won't  go — how  can  you  leave  us  ? 

Hast.  Our  presence  will  but  spoil  con- 
versation, so  we'll  retire  to  the  next  room. 
(To  him.}  You  don't  consider,  man, 
that  we  are  to  manage  a  little  te'te-a-te'te 
of  our  own. 

Miss  Hard.  (After  a  pause.}  But  you 
have  not  been  wholly  an  observer,  I  pre- 


o 


SHE  STOOPS  fO  CONQUER. 


iume,  sir :  the  ladies,  I  should  hope,  have 
employed  some  part  of  your  addresses. 

Marl,  (Relapsing  into  timidity.)  Par- 
don me,  madam,  I — I — I  as  yet  have 
studied — only — to — deserve  them. 

Miss  Hard.  And  that,  some  say,  is  the 
very  worst  way  to  obtain  them. 

Marl.  Perhaps  so,  madam.  But  I 
love  to  converse  only  with  the  more  grave 
and  sensible  part  of  the  sex.  But  I'm 
afraid  I  grow  tiresome. 

Miss  Hard.  Not  at  all  sir ;  there  is  noth- 
ing I  like  so  much  as  grave  conversation 
myself;  I  could  hear  it  forever.  Indeed,  I 
have  often  been  surprised  how  a  man  of 
sentiment  could  ever  admire  those  light, 
airy  pleasures,  where  nothing  reaches  the 
heart. 

Marl.  It's — a  disease — of  the  mind, 
madam.  In  the  variety  of  tastes  there 
must  be  some,  who,  wanting  a  relish — 
for — um-a-um. 

Miss  Hard.  I  understand  you,  sir. 
There  must  be  some,  who,  wanting  a 
relish  for  refined  pleasures,  pretend  to  de- 
spise what  they  are  incapable  of  tasting. 

Marl.  My  meaning,  madam,  but  infi- 
nitely better  expressed.  And  I  can't  help 
observing — a — 

Miss  Hard.  (Aside.)  Who  could  ever 
suppose  this  fellow  impudent  upon  some 
occasions?  (To  him.)  You  were  going 
to  observe,  sir 

Marl.  I  was  observing,  madam — I  pro- 
test, madam,  I  forget  what  I  was  going  to 
observe. 

Miss  Hard.  (Aside.)  I  vow,  and  so  do 
I.  (To  him.)  You  were  observing,  sir, 
that  in  this  age  of  hypocrisy — something 
about  hypocrisy,  sir. 

Marl.  Yes,  madam ;  in  this  age  of  hy- 
pocrisy there  are  few  who,  upon  strict  in- 
quiry, do  not — a — a — a — 

Miss  Hard.  I  understand  you  per- 
fectly, sir. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  Indeed  1  and  that's 
more  than  I  do  myself. 

Miss  Hard.  You  mean  that,  in  this 
hypocritical  age,  there  are  few  that  do 
not  condemn  in  public  what  they  practise 
in  private,  and  think  they  pay  every  debt 
to  virtue  when  they  praise  it. 

Marl.  True,  madam ;  those  who  have 
most  virtue  in  their  mouths  have  least  of 
it  in  their  bosoms.  But  Pm  sure  I  tire 
you,  madam. 

Miss  Hard.  Not  in  the  least,  sir ; 
there's  something  so  agreeable,  and  spir- 

VOL.  II. — W.  H. 


ited  in  your  manner ;  such  life  and  force 
— pray,  sir,  go  on. 

Marl.  Yea,  madam ;  I  was  saying— 
that  there  are  some  occasions — when  a 
total  want  of  courage,  madam,  destroys 
all  the — and  puts  us — upon  a — a — a — 

Miss  Hard.  I  agree  with  you  entirely ; 
a  want  of  courage  upon  some  occasions, 
assumes  the  appearance  of  ignorance, 
and  betrays  us  when  we  most  want  to 
excel.  I  beg  you'll  proceed. 

Marl.  Yes,  madam ;  morally  speaking, 
madam — But  I  see  Miss  Neville  expecting 
us  in  the  next  room.  I  would  not  intrude 
for  the  world. 

Miss  Hard.  I  protest,  sir,  I  was  never 
more  agreeably  entertained  in  all  my  life. 
Pray  go  on. 

Marl.  Yes,  madam ;  I  was — But  she 
beckons  us  to  join  her.  Madam,  shall  I 
do  myself  the  honor  to  attend  you? 

Miss  Hard.    Well,  then,  I'll  follow. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  This  pretty  smooth  dia- 
logue has  done  for  me.  (JExit. 

Miss  HARDCASTLE,  Sola. 

Miss  Hard.  Ha !  ha  I  ha !  Was  there 
ever  such  a  sober,  sentimental  interview? 
I'm  certain  he  scarce  looked  in  my  face 
the  whole  time.  Yet  the  fellow,  but  for 
his  unaccountable  bashfulness,  is  pretty 
well  too.  He  has  good  sense;  but  then, 
so  buried  in  his  fears,  that  it  fatigues  one 
more  than  ignorance.  If  I  could  teach 
him  a  little  confidence,  it  would  be  doing 
somebody,  that  I  know  of,  a  piece  of  ser- 
vice. But  who  is  that  somebody  ? — that  is 
a  question  I  can  scarce  answer.  (Exit.) 

Enter  TONY  and  Miss  NEVILLE,  followed 
by  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  and  HASTINGS. 

Tony.  What  do  you  follow  me  for, 
Cousin  Con?  I  wonder  you're  not 
ashamed,  to  be  so  very  engaging. 

Miss  Nev.  I  hope,  cousin,  one  may 
speak  to  one's  own  relations,  and  not  be 
to  blame  ? 

Tony.  Ay,  but  I  know  what  sort  of  a 
relation  you  want  to  make  me,  though ; 
but  it  won't  do.  I  tell  you  Cousin  Con, 
it  won't  do,  so  I  beg  you'll  keep  your  dis- 
tance ;  I  want  no  nearer  relationship. 

(She  follows,  coquetting  him  to  the  back- 
scene.) 

Mrs.  Hard.  Well!  I  vow,  Mr.  Hast- 
ings,  you  are  very  entertaining.  There's 
nothing  in  the  world  I  love  to  talk  of  so 


838 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


much  as  London,  and  the  fashions,  though 
I  was  never  there  myself. 

Hast.  Never  there  !  You  amaze  me ! 
From  your  air  and  manner,  I  concluded 
you  had  been  bred  all  your  life  either  at 
Banelagh,  St.  James's  or  Tower  Wharf. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Oh  !  sir,  you're  only  pleased 
to  say  so.  We  country  persons  can  have 
no  manners  at  all.  I'm  in  love  with  the 
town,  and  that  serves  to  raise  me  above 
some  of  our  neighboring  rustics ;  but  who 
can  have  a  manner,  that  has  never  seen 
the  Pantheon,  the  Grotto  Gardens,  the 
Borough,  and  such  places  where  the  no- 
bility chiefly  resort  ?  All  I  can  do  is  to 
enjoy  London  at  second-hand.  I  take  care 
to  know  every  te'te-a-te'te  from  the  Scanda- 
lous Magazine,  and  have  all  the  fashions, 
as  they  come  out,  in  a  letter  from  the  two 
Miss  Rickets,  of  Crooked-lane.  Pray,  how 
do  you  like  this  head,  Mr.  Hastings  ? 

Hast.  Extremely  elegant  and  d&gagte, 
upon  my  word,  madam.  Your  friseur  is 
a  Frenchman,  I  suppose  ? 

Mrs.  Hard.  I  protest  I  dressed  it  my- 
self from  a  print  in  the  Ladies'  Memoran- 
dum Book  for  the  last  year. 

Hast.  Indeed  !  such  a  head  in  a  side- 
box,  at  the  play-house,  would  draw  as 
many  gazers  as  my  Lady  Mayoress  at  a 
city  ball. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I  vow,  since  inoculation  be- 
gan there  is  no  such  thing  to  be  seen  as  a 
plain  woman ;  so  one  must  dress  a  little 
particular,  or  one  may  escape  in  the 
crowd. 

Hast.  But  that  can  never  be  your  case, 
madam,  in  any  dress.  (Bowing.} 

Mrs.  Hard.  Yet  what  signifies  my  dress- 
ing when  I  have  such  a  piece  of  anti- 
quity by  my  side  as  Mr.  Hardcastle?  All 
I  can  say  will  not  argue  down  a  single 
button  from  his  clothes.  I  have  often 
wanted  him  to  throw  off  his  great  flaxen 
wig,  and  where  he  was  bald,  to  plaster  it 
over,  like  my  Lord  Pately,  with  powder. 

Hast.  You  are  right,  madam;  for  as 
among  the  ladies  there  are  none  ugly,  so 
among  the  men  there  are  none  old. 

Mrs.  Hard.  But  what  do  you  think  his 
answer  was?  Why,  with  his  usual  Go- 
thic vivacity,  he  said,  I  only  wanted  him 
to  throw  off  his  wig,  to  convert  it  into  a 
t£te  for  my  own  wearing. 

Hast.  Intolerable!  At  your  age  you 
may  wear  what  you  please,  and  it  must 
become  you. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Pray,  Mr.  Hastings,  what 


do  you  take  to  be  the  most  fashionable 
age  about  town  ? 

Hast.  Some  time  ago,  forty  was  all  the 
mode ;  but  I'm  told  the  ladies  intend  to 
bring  up  fifty  for  the  ensuing  winter. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Seriously !  then  I  shall  be 
too  young  for  the  fashion. 

Hast.  No  lady  begins  now  to  put  on 
jewels  till  she's  past  forty.  For  instance, 
Miss  there,  in  a  polite  circle,  would  be 
considered  as  a  child,  as  a  mere  maker  of 
samplers. 

Mrs.  Hard.  And  yet  Mrs.  Niece  thinks 
herself  as  much  a  woman,  and  is  as  fond 
of  jewels,  as  the  oldest  of  us  all. 

Hast.  Your  niece,  is  she?  and  that 
young  gentleman  a  brother  of  yours,  I 
should  presume? 

Mrs.  Hard.  My  son,  sir.  They  are  con- 
tracted to  each  other.  Observe  their  lit- 
tle sports.  They  fall  in  and  out  ten 
times  a  day,  as  if  they  were  man  and 
wife  already.  (To  them.)  Well,  Tony, 
child,  what  soft  things  are  you  saying  to 
your  cousin  Constance  this  evening  ? 

Tony.  I  have  been  saying  no  soft 
things ;  but  that  it's  very  hard  to  be  fol- 
lowed about  so.  Ecod,  I've  not  a  place 
in  the  house  now  that's  left  to  myself,  but 
the  stable. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Never  mind  him,  Con,  my 
dear.  He's  in  another  etory  behind  your 
back. 

Miss  Nev.  There's  something  generous 
in  my  cousin's  manner.  He  falls  out 
before  faces  to  be  forgiven  in  private. 

Tony.  That's  a  confounded — crack. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ah !  he's  a  sly  one.  Don't 
you  think  they're  like  each  other  about 
the  mouth,  Mr.  Hastings  ?  The  Blenkin- 
sop  mouth  to  a  T.  They're  of  a  size,  too. 
Back  to  back,  my  pretties,  that  Mr.  Hast- 
ings may  see  you.  Come,  Tony. 

Tony.  You  had  as  good  not  make  me, 
I  tell  you.  (Measuring.} 

Miss  Nev.  Oh  I  he  has  almost  cracked 
my  head. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Oh,  the  monster!  For 
shame,  Tony.  You  a  man,  and  behave 
so! 

Tony.  If  I'm  a  man,  let  me  have  my 
fortin.  Ecod,  I'll  not  be  made  a  fool  of 
no  longer. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Is  this,  ungrateful  boy,  all 
that  I'm  to  get  for  the  pains  I  have  taken 
in  your  education  ?  I  that  have  rocked 
you  in  your  cradle,  and  fed  that  pretty 
mouth  with  a  spoon?  Did  not  I  work 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


339 


that  waistcoat  to  make  you  genteel  ?  Did 
iiot  I  prescribe  for  you  every  day,  and 
weep  wnile  the  receipt  was  operating  ? 

Tony.  Ecod,  you  had  reason  to  weep, 
for  you  have  been  dosing  me  ever  since  I 
was  born.  I  have  gone  through  every 
receipt  in  the  Complete  Huswife  ten  times 
ov-er ;  and  you  have  thoughts  of  coursing 
me  through  Quincy  next  spring.  But, 
ecod,  I  tell  you,  I'll  not  be  made  a  fool 
of  no  longer. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Wasn't  it  all  for  your  good, 
viper  ?  Wasn't  it  all  for  your  good  ? 

Tony.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  and  my  good 
alone,  then.  Snubbing  this  way,  when 
I'm  in  spirits.  If  I'm  to  have  any  good, 
let  it  come  of  itself;  not  to  keep  dinging 
it,  dinging  it  into  one  so. 

Mrs.  Hard.  That's  false ;  I  never  see 
you  when  you  are  in  spirits.  No,  Tony, 
you  go  then  to  the  alehouse,  or  kennel. 
I'm  never  to  be  delighted  with  your 
agreeable  wild  notes,  unfeeling  monster ! 

Tony.  Ecod,  mamma,  your  own  notes 
are  the  wildest  of  the  two. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Was  ever  the  like !  But  I 
see  he  wants  to  break  my  heart,  I  see  he 
does. 

Hast.  Dear  madam,  permit  me  to  lec- 
ture the  young  gentleman  a  little.  I'm 
certain  I  can  persuade  him  to  his  duty. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Well !  I  must  retire.  Come, 
Constance,  my  love.  You  see,  Mr.  Hast- 
ings, the  wretchedness  of  my  situation. 
Was  ever  poor  woman  so  plagued  with  a 
dear,  sweet,  pretty,  provoking,  undutiful 
boy? 

(ExeuntM.R8.  HARD,  and  Miss  NEVILLE.) 

HASTINGS.    TONY. 
Tony.  (Singing.) 

There  was  a  young  man  riding  by, 
And  fain  would  have  his  will. 

Raug  do  didlo  dee. 

Don't  mind  her.  Let  her  cry.  It's  the 
comfort  of  her  heart.  I  have  seen  her  and 
sister  cry  over  a  book  for  an  hour  to- 
gether; and  they  said  they  liked  the 
book  the  better  the  more  it  made  them 
cry. 

Hast.  Then  you're  no  friend  to  the  la- 
dies, I  find,  my  pretty  young  gentleman. 

Tony.    That's  as  I  find  'urn. 

Hast.  Not  to  her  of  your  mother's 
choosing,  I  dare  answer :  and  yet  she  ap- 
pears to  me  a  pretty,  well-tempered  girl. 

Tony.    That's  because  you  don't  know 


her  as  well  as  I.  Ecod,  I  know  every  inch 
about  her  and  there's  not  a  more  bitter, 
cantankerous  toad  in  all  Christendom. 

Hast.  (Aside.)  Pretty  encouragement 
this  for  a  lover ! 

Tony.  I  have  seen  her  since  the  height 
of  that.  She  has  as  many  tricks  as  a  hare 
in  a  thicket,  or  a  colt  the  first  day's 
breaking. 

Hast.  To  me  she  appears  sensible  and 
silent. 

Tony.  Ay,  before  company.  But  when 
she's  with  her  playmates,  she's  as  loud  as 
a  hog  in  a  gate. 

Hast.  But  there  is  a  meek  modesty 
about  her  that  charms  me. 

Tony.  Yes ;  but  curb  her  never  so  little, 
she  kicks  up,  and  you're  flung  in  a  ditch. 

Hast.  Well,  but  you  must  allow  her  a 
little  beauty.  Yes,  you  must  allow  her 
some  beauty. 

Tony.  Bandbox !  She's  all  a  made  up 
thing,  mun.  Ah !  could  you  but  see  Bet 
Bouncer,  of  these  parts,  you  might  then 
talk  of  beauty.  Ecod,  she  has  two  eyes  as 
black  as  sloes,  and  cheeks  as  broad  and 
red  as  a  pulpit  cushion.  She'd  make  two 
of  she. 

Hast.  Well,  what  say  you  to  a  friend 
that  would  take  this  bitter  bargain  off 
your  hands? 

Tony.     Anan ! 

Hast.  Would  you  thank  him  that 
would  take  Miss  Neville,  and  leave  you 
to  happiness  and  your  dear  Betsy  ? 

Tony.  Ay ;  but  where  is  there  such  a 
friend?  for  who  would  take  her? 

Hast.  I  am  he.  If  you  but  assist  me, 
I'll  engage  to  whip  her  off  to  France,  and 
you  shall  never  hear  more  of  her. 

Tony.  Assist  you !  Ecod,  I  will,  to  the 
last  drop  of  my  blood.  I'll  clap  a  pair  of 
horses  to  your  chaise  that  shall  trundle 
you  off  in  a  twinkling ;  and  may  be,  get 
you  a  part  of  her  fortin  beside,  in  jewels, 
that  you  little  dream  of. 

Hast.  My  dear  'squire,  this  looks  like 
a  lad  of  spirit. 

Tony.  Come  along,  then,  and  you  shall 
see  more  of  my  spirit  before  you  hava 
done  with  me.  (Singing). 

We  are  the  boys 

That  fear  no  noise 

Where  the  thundering  cannons  roar. 

(Exeunt.} 


340 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


ACT  HI. 
SCENE  i. — Enter  HARDCASTLE,  solus. 

Hard.  What  could  my  old  friend  Sir 
Charles  mean,  by  recommending  his  son 
as  the  modestest  young  man  in  town  ?  To 
me  he  appears  the  mostimpudent  piece  of 
brass  that  ever  spoke  with  a  tongue.  He 
has  taken  possession  of  the  easy-chair  by 
the  fireside  already.  He  took  off  his 
boots  in  the  parlor,  and  desired  me  to  see 
them  taken  care  of.  I'm  desirous  to  know 
how  his  impudence  affects  my  daughter. 
She  will  certainly  be  shocked  at  it. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE,  plainly  dressed. 

Hard.  Well,  my  Kate,  I  see  you  have 
changed  your  dress,  as  I  bid  you ;  and  yet, 
I  believe,  there  was  no  great  occasion. 

Miss  Hard.  I  find  such  a  pleasure,  sir, 
in  obeying  your  commands,  that  I  take 
care  to  obey  them  without  ever  debating 
their  propriety. 

Hard.  And  yet,  Kate,  I  sometimes 
give  you  some  cause,  particularly  when  I 
recommended  my  modest  gentleman  to 
you  as  a  lover  to-day. 

Miss  Hard.  You  taught  me  to  expect 
something  extraordinary,  and  I  find  the 
original  exceeds  the  description. 

Hard.  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my 
life !  He  has  quite  confounded  all  my 
faculties  I 

Miss  Hard.  I  never  saw  anything  like 
it :  and  a  man  of  the  world,  too ! 

Hard.  Ay,  he  learned  it  all  abroad. 
What  a  fool  was  I  to  think  a  young  man 
could  learn  modesty  by  travelling !  He 
might  as  soon  learn  wit  at  a  masquerade. 

Miss  Hard.  It  seems  all  natural  to 
him. 

Hard.  A  good  deal  assisted  by  bad 
company,  and  a  French  dancing-master. 

Miss  Hard.  Sure  you  mistake,  papa ! 
A  French  dancing-master  could  never 
have  taught  him  that  timid  look — that 
awkward  address — that  bashful  manner — 

Hard.  Whose  look?  whose  manner, 
child? 

Miss  Hard.  Mr.  Marlowe's:  his  mau- 
vaise  honte,  his  timidity,  struck  me  at  the 
first  sight. 

Hard.  Then  your  first  sight  deceived 
you;  for  I  think  him  one  of  the  most 
brazen  first-sights  that  ever  astonished 
my  senses. 

Miss  Hard.  Sure,  sir,  you  rally !  I 
never  saw  any  one  so  modest. 


Hard.  And  can  you  be  serious?  I 
never  saw  such  a  bouncing,  swaggering 
puppy  since  I  was  born  !  Bully  Dawson 
was  but  a  fool  to  him. 

Miss  Hard.  Surprising!  He  met  me 
with  a  respectful  bow,  a  stammering 
voice,  and  a  look  fixed  on  the  ground. 

Hard.  He  met  me  with  a  loud  voice,  a 
lordly  air,  and  a  familiarity  that  made 
my  blood  freeze  again. 

Miss  Hard.  He  treated  me  with  diffi- 
dence and  respect;  censured  the  man- 
ners of  the  age  ;  admired  the  prudence  of 
girls  that  never  laughed  ;  tired  me  with 
apologies  for  being  tiresome;  then  left 
the  room  with  a  bow,  and  "Madam,  I 
would  not  for  the  world  detain  you.'' 

Hard.  He  spoke  to  me  as  if  he  knew 
me  all  his  life  before ;  asked  twenty  ques- 
tions, and  never  waited  for  an  answer ; 
interrupted  my  best  remarks  with  some 
silly  pun ;  and  when  I  was  in  my  best 
story  of  the  Duke  of  Maryborough  and 
Prince  Eugene,  he  asked  me  if  I  had 
not  a  good  hand  at  making  punch.  Yes, 
Kate,  he  asked  your  father  if  he  was  a 
maker  of  punch. 

Miss  Hard.  One  of  us  must  certainly 
be  mistaken. 

Hard.  If  he  be  what  he  has  shown 
himself,  I'm  determined  he  shall  never 
have  my  consent. 

Miss  Hard.  And  if  he  be  the  sullen 
thing  I  take  him,  he  shall  never  have 
mine. 

Hard.  In  one  thing  then  we  are  agreed 
— to  reject  him. 

Miss  Hard.  Yes.  But  upon  conditions. 
For  if  you  should  find  him  less  impu- 
dent, and  I  more  presuming ;  if  you 
should  find  him  more  respectful,  and  I 
more  importunate — I  don't  know — the 
fellow  is  well  enough  for  a  man.  Cer- 
tainly, we  don't  meet  many  such  at  a 
horse-race  in  the  country. 

Hard.  If  we  should  find  him  so — but 
that's  impossible.  The  first  appearance 
has  done  my  business.  I'm  seldom  de- 
ceived in  that. 

Miss  Hard.  And  yet  there  may  be 
many  good  qualities  under  that  first  ap- 
pearance. 

Hard.  Ay,  when  a  girl  finds  a  fellow's 

outside  to  her  taste,  she  then  sets  about 

•uessing  the  rest  of  his  furniture.     With 

er  a  smooth  face  stands  for  good  sense, 

and  a  genteel  figure  for  every  virtue. 

Miss  Hard.  I  hope,  sir,  a  conversation 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


341 


begun  with  a  compliment  to  my  good 
sense,  won't  end  with  a  sneer  at  my  un- 
derstanding. 

Hard.  Pardon  me,  Kate.  But  if  young 
Mr.  Brazen  can  find  the  art  of  reconcil- 
ing contradictions,  he  may  please  us  both, 
perhaps. 

Miss  Hard.  And  as  one  of  us  must  be 
mistaken,  what  if  we  go  to  make  further 
discoveries  ? 

Hard.  But  depend  on't,  I'm  in  the  right. 

Miss  Hard.  And  depend  on't,  I'm  not 
much  in  the  wrong,  (Exeunt.) 

Enter  TONY  running  in  with  a  casket. 

Tony.  Ecod,  I  have  got  them!  Here 
they  are.  My  cousin  Con's  necklaces, 
bobs,  and  all.  My  mother  shan't  cheat 
the  poor  souls  out  of  their  fortin,  neither. 
Oh !  my  genus,  is  that  you? 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.  My  dear  friend,  how  have  you 
managed  with  your  mother?  I  hope  you 
have  amused  her  with  pretending  love 
for  your  cousin ;  and  that  you  are  willing 
to  be  reconciled  at  last.  Our  horses  will 
be  refreshed  in  a  short  time,  and  we  shall 
soon  be  ready  to  set  off. 

Tony.  And  here's  something  to  bear 
your  charges  by  the  way  —  (giving  the 
casket) — your  sweetheart's  jewels.  Keep 
them  ;  and  hang  those,  I  say,  that  would 
rob  you  of  one  of  them. 

Hast.  But  how  have  you  procured  them 
from  your  mother? 

Tony.  Ask  me  no  questions,  and  I'll 
tell  you  no  fibs.  I  procured  them  by  the 
rule  of  thumb.  If  I  had  not  a  key  to 
every  drawer  in  mother's  bureau,  how 
could  I  go  to  the  alehouse  so  often  as  I 
do  ?  An  honest  man  may  rob  of  himself 
his  own  at  any  time. 

Hast.  Thousands  do  it  every  day.  But 
to  be  plain  with  you,  Miss  Neville  is  en- 
deavouring to  procure  them  from  her 
aunt  this  very  instant.  If  she  succeeds, 
it  will  be  the  most  delicate  way  at  least 
of  obtaining  them. 

Tony.  Well,  keep  them,  till  you  know 
how  it  will  be.  I  know  how  it  will  be, 
well  enough  ;  she'd  as  soon  part  with  the 
only  sound  tooth  in  her  head. 

Hast.  But  I  dread  the  effects  of  her  re- 
sentment, when  she  finds  she  has  lost 
them. 

Tony.  Never  you  mind  her  resentment, 
leave  me  to  manage  that.  I  don't  value 


her  resentment  the  bounce  of  a  cracker. 
Zounds !  here  they  are.   Morrice !  Prance  I 
(Exit  HASTINGS.) 

TONY,  MRS.  HARDCASTLE,  Miss  NEVILLE 

Mrs.  Hard.  Indeed,  Constance,  you 
amaze  me.  Such  a  girl  as  you  want 
jewels !  It  will  be  time  enough  for  jew- 
els, my  dear,  twenty  years  hence ;  when 
your  beauty  begins  to  want  repairs. 

Miss  Nev.  But  what  will  repair  beauty 
at  forty,  will  certainly  improve  it  at 
twenty,  madam. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Yours,  my  dear,  can  admit 
of  none.  That  natural  blush  is  beyond  a 
thousand  ornaments.  Besides,  child,  jew- 
els are  quite  out  at  present.  Don't  you 
see  half  the  ladies  of  our  acquaintance, 
my  Lady  Kill-Daylight,  and  Mrs.  Crump, 
and  the  rest  of  them,  carry  their  jewels 
to  town,  and  bring  nothing  but  paste  and 
marcasites  back? 

Miss  Nev.  But  who  knows,  madam,  but 
somebody  that  shall  be  nameless  would 
like  me  best  with  all  my  little  finery 
about  me  ? 

Mrs.  Hard.  Consult  your  glass,  my 
dear,  and  then  see  if,  with  such  a  pair 
of  eyes,  you  want  any  better  sparklers. 
What  do  you  think,  Tony,  my  dear? 
does  your  cousin  Con  want  any  jewels, 
in  your  eyes,  to  set  off  her  beauty? 

Tony.  That's  as  thereafter  may  be. 

Miss  Nev.  My  dear  aunt,  if  you  knew 
how  it  would  oblige  me. 

Mrs.  Hard.  A  parcel  of  old-fashioned 
rose  and  table-cut  things.  They  would 
make  you  look  like  the  court  of  King 
Solomon  at  a  puppet-show.  Besides,  I 
believe  I  can't  readily  come  at  them. 
Theymay  be  missing,  for  aught  I  know 
to  the  contrary. 

Tony.  (Apart  to  MRS.  HARDCASTLE.) 
Then  why  don't  you  tell  her  so  at  once, 
as  she's  so  longing  for  them?  Tell  her 
they're  lost.  It's  the  only  way  to  quiet 
her.  Say  they're  lost,  and  call  me  to 
bear  witness. 

Mrs.  Hard.  (Apart  to  TONY.)  You 
know,  my  dear,  I'm  only  keeping  them 
for  you.  So,  if  I  say  they're  gone,  you'll 
bear  me  witness,  will  you  ?  He !  he !  he ! 

Tony.  Never  fear  me.  Ecod,  I'll  say 
I  saw  them  taken  out  with  my  own  eyes. 

Miss  Nev.  I  desire  them  but  for  a  day, 
madam.  Just  to  be  permitted  to  show 
them  as  relics,  and  then  they  may  be 
locked  up  again. 


342 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Mrs.  Hard.  To  be  plain  with  you,  my 
dear  Constance,  if  I  could  find  them,  you 
should  have  them.  They're  missing,  I 
assure  you.  Lost,  for  aught  I  know ;  but 
we  must  have  patience,  wherever  they  are. 

Miss  Nev.  I'll  not  believe  it ;  this  is  but 
a  shallow  pretence  to  deny  me.  I  know 
they're  too  valuable  to  be  so  slightly  kept, 
and  as  you  are  to  answer  for  the  loss — 

Mrs.  Hard.  Don't  be  alarmed,  Con- 
stance ;  if  they  be  lost,  I  must  restore  an 
equivalent.  But  my  son  knows  they  are 
missing,  and  not  to  be  found. 

Tony.  That  I  can  bear  witness  to. 
They  are  missing,  and  not  to  be  found. 
I'll  take  my  oath  on't. 

Mrs.  Hard.  You  must  learn  resigna- 
tion, my  dear;  for  though  we  lose  our 
fortune,  yet  we  should  not  lose  our  pa- 
tience. See  me.  how  calm  I  am. 

Miss  Nev.  Ay,  people  are  generally 
calm  at  the  misfortunes  of  others. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Now,  I  wonder  a  girl  of 
your  good  sense  should  waste  a  thought 
upon  such  trumpery.  We  shall  soon  find 
them ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  you  shall 
make  use  of  my  garnets,  till  your  jewels 
be  found. 

Miss  Nev.    I  detest  garnets ! 

Mrs.  Hard.  The  most  becoming  things 
in  the  world,  to  set  off  a  clear  complexion. 
You  have  often  seen  how  well  they  look 
upon  me.  You  shall  have  them.  (Exit.) 

Miss  Nev.  I  dislike  them  of  all  things. 
(To  TONY.)  You  shan't  stir.  Was  ever 
anything  so  provoking?  to  mislay  my 
own  jewels,  and  force  me  to  wear  her 
trumpery  I 

Tony.  Don't  be  a  fool!  If  she  gives 
you  the  garnets,  take  what  you  can  get. 
The  jewels  are  your  own  already.  I  have 
stolen  them  out  of  her  bureau,  and  she 
does  not  know  it.  Fly  to  your  spark, 
he'll  tell  you  more  of  the  matter.  Leave 
me  to  manage  her. 

Miss  Nev.   My  dear  cousin ! 

Tony.  Vanish!  She's  here,  and  has 
missed  them  already.  (Exit  Miss  NE- 
VILLE.) Zounds!  how  she  fidgets,  and 
spits  about  like  a  Catharine-wheel ! 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Confusion !  thieves !  rob- 
bers !  We  are  cheated,  plundered,  broken 
open,  undone ! 

Tony.  What's  the  matter  ?  what's  the 
matter,  mamma?  I  hope  nothing  has 
happened  to  any  of  the  good  family ! 


Mrs.  Hard.  We  are  robbed!  My 
bureau  has  been  broke  open,  the  jewels 
taken  out,  and  I'm  undone. 

Tony.  Oh!  is  that  all?  Ha!  ha!  ha! 
By  the  laws,  I  never  saw  it  better  acted 
in  my  life.  Ecod,  I  thought  you  was 
ruined  in  earnest ;  ha  !  ha !  ha ! 

Mrs.  Hard.  Why,  boy,  I  am  ruined  in 
earnest.  My  bureau  has  been  broke 
open,  and  all  taken  away. 

Tony.  Stick  to  that ;  ha !  ha  !  ha !  stick 
to  that ;  I'll  bear  witness,  you  know ;  call 
me  to  bear  witness. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I  tell  you,  Tony,  by  all 
that's  precious,  the  jewels  are  gone,  and  I 
shall  be  ruined  for  ever. 

Tony.  Sure,  I  know  they're  gone,  and 
I  am  to  say  so. 

Mrs.  Hard.  My  dearest  Tony,  but 
hear  me.  They're  gone,  I  say. 

Tony.  By  the  laws,  mamma,  you  make 
me  for  to  laugh;  ha!  ha!  I  know  who 
took  them  well  enough ;  ha !  ha  !  ha ! 

Mrs.  Hard.  Was  there  ever  such  a 
blockhead,  that  can't  tell  the  difference 
between  jest  and  earnest?  I  tell  you  I'm 
not  in  jest,  booby ! 

Tony.  That's  right,  that's  right.  You 
must  be  in  a  bitter  passion,  and  then  no- 
body will  suspect  either  of  us.  I'll  bear 
witness  that  they  are  gone. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Was  there  ever  such  a 
cross-grained  brute,  that  won't  hear  me? 
Can  you  bear  witness  that  you're  no  better 
than  a  fool  ?  Was  ever  poor  woman  so 
beset  with  fools  on  one  hand,  and  thieves 
on  the  other  ? 

Tony.    I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Bear  witness  again,  you 
blockhead,  you ;  and  I'll  turn  you  out  of 
the  room  directly.  My  poor  niece !  what 
will  become  of  her  ?  Do  you  laugh,  you 
unfeeling  brute,  as  if  you  enjoyed  my  dis- 
tress? 

Tony.    I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Do  you  insult  me,  m»n- 
ster?  I'll  teach  you  to  vex  your  mother, 
I  will. 

Tony.    I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 

(He  runs  off,  she  follows  him.} 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE  and  Maid. 

Miss  Hard.  What  an  unaccountable 
creature  is  that  brother  of  mine,  to  send 
them  to  the  house  as  an  inn  ;  ha !  ha !  I 
don't  wonder  at  his  impudence. 

Maid.  But  what  is  more,  madam,  the 
young  gentleman,  as  you  passed  by  in 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


343 


your  present  dress,  asked  me  if  you  wer 
the  barmaid?  He  mistook  you  for  th 
barmaid,  madam. 

Miss  Hard.     Did  he  ?    Then,  as  I  live 
I'm  resolved  to  keep  up  the  delusion.  Tel 
me,  Pimple,  how  do  you  like  my  presem 
dress  ?     Don't  you  think  I  look  something 
like  Cherry  in  the  "  Beaux'  Stratagem  ? ' 

Maid.  It's  the  dress,  madam,  that 
every  lady  wears  in  the  country,  but  when 
she  visits  or  receives  company. 

Miss  Hard-  And  are  you  sure  he 
does  not  remember  my  face  or  person  ? 

Maid.     Certain  of  it 

Miss  Hard.  I  vow,  I  thought  so  ;  for 
though  we  spoke  for  some  time  together, 
yet  his  fears  were  such,  that  he  never 
once  looked  up  during  the  interview.  In- 
deed, if  he  had,  my  bonnet  would  have 
kept  him  from  seeing  me. 

Maid.  But  what  do  you  hope  from  keep- 
ing him  in  his  mistake? 

Miss  Hard.  In  the  first  place,  I  shall 
be  seen,  and  that  is  no  small  advantage  to 
a  girl  who  brings  her  face  to  market. 
Then  I  shall,  perhaps,  make  an  acquaint- 
ance, and  that's  no  small  victory  gained 
over  one  who  never  addresses  any  but  the 
wildest  of  her  sex.  But  my  chief  aim  is 
to  take  my  gentleman  off  his  guard,  and, 
like  an  invisible  champion  of  romance, 
examine  the  giant's  force  before  I  offer  to 
combat. 

Maid.  But  are  you  sure  you  can  act 
your  part,  and  disguise  your  voice,  so  that 
he  may  mistake  that,  as  he  has  already 
mistaken  your  person  ? 

Miss  Hard.  Never  fear  me.  I  think  I 
have  got  the  true  bar  cant. — Did  your 
honor  call? — Attend  the  Lion  there. — 
Pipes  and  tobacco  for  the  Angel.  The 
Lamb  has  been  outrageous  this  half  hour. 

Maid.  It  will  do,  madam.  But  he's 
here.  (Exit  Maid.) 

Enter  MAELOW. 

Marl.  What  a  bawling  in  every  part 
of  the  house !  I  have  scarce  a  moment's 
repose.  If  I  go  to  the  best  room,  there  I 
find  my  host  and  his  story.  If  I  fly  to  the 
gallery,  there  we  have  my  hostess,  with 
her  curtsey  down  to  the  ground.  I  have 
at  last  got  a  moment  to  myself,  and  now 
for  recollection.  (  Walks  and  muses.) 

Miss  Hard.  Did  you  call,  sir?  did  your 
honour  call  ? 

Marl.  (Musing.)  As  for  Miss  Hard- 
castle,  she's  too  grave  and  sentimental  for 
me. 


Miss  Hard.    Did  your  honour  call  ? 

(She  still  places  herself  before  him,  he 
turning  away.) 

Marl.  No,  child.  (Musing.)  Besides, 
from  the  glimpse  I  had  of  her,  I  think 
she  squints. 

Miss  Hard.  I'm  sure,  sir,  I  heard  the 
bell  ring. 

Marl.  No,  no.  (Musing.)  I  have 
pleased  my  father,  however,  by  coming 
down,  and  I'll  to-morrow  please  myself 
by  returning. 

( Taking  out  his  tablets,  and  perusing.) 

Miss  Hard.  Perhaps  the  other  gentle- 
man called,  sir. 

Marl.    I  tell  you,  no. 

Miss  Hard.  I  should  be  glad  to  know, 
sir.  We  have  such  a  parcel  of  servants. 

Marl.  No,  no,  I  tell  you.  (Looks  full 
in  her  face.)  Yes,  child,  I  think  I  did  call. 
I  wanted — I  wanted — I  vow,  child,  you 
are  vastly  handsome. 

Miss  Hard.  Oh !  la,  sir,  you'll  make 
one  ashamed. 

Marl.  Never  saw  a  more  sprightly, 
malicious  eye.  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  I  did 
call.  Have  you  got  any  of  your — a — 
what  d'ye  call  it,  in  the  house  ? 

Miss  Hard.  No,  sir,  we  have  been  out 
of  that  these  ten  days. 

Marl.  One  may  call  in  this  house,  I 
find,  to  very  little  purpose.  Suppose  I 
should  call  for  a  taste,  just  by  way  of  trial, 
of  the  nectar  of  your  lips ;  perhaps  I  might 
be  disappointed  in  that,  too. 

Miss  Hard.  Nectar  1  nectar !  that's  a 
liquor  there's  no  call  for  in  these  parts. 
French,  I  suppose.  We  keep  no  French 
wines  here,  sir. 

Marl-  Of  true  English  growth,  I  assure 
you. 

Miss  Hard.    Then  it's  odd  I  should  not 
know  it.   We  brew  all  sorts  of  wines  in 
this  house,  and  I  have  lived  here  these 
ighteen  years. 

Marl.  Eighteen  years?  Why,  one 
would  think,  child,  you  kept  the  bar  be- 
fore you  were  born.  How  old  are  you  ? 

Miss  Hard.  Oh,  sir,  I  must  not  tell  my 
age !  They  say  women  and  music  should 
never  be  dated. 

Marl.  To  guess  at  this  distance,  you 
can't  be  much  above  forty.  (Approaching.) 
Yet  nearer,  I  don't  think  so  much.  (Ap- 
proaching.) By  coming  close  to  some 
women,  they  look  younger  still ;  but  when 

we  come  very  close  indeed 

(Attempting  to  kiss  her.) 


344 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Miss  Hard.  Pray,  sir,  keep  your  dis- 
tance. One  would  think  you  wanted  to 
know  one's  age  as  they  do  horses,  by  mark 
of  mouth. 

Marl.  I  protest,  child,  you  use  me  ex- 
tremely ill.  If  you  keep  me  at  this  dis- 
tance, how  is  it  possible  you  and  I  can  be 
ever  acquainted? 

Miss  Hard.  And  who  wants  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  you?  I  want  no  such 
acquaintance,  not  I.  I'm  sure  you  did  not 
treat  Miss  Hardcastle,  that  was  here  a 
while  ago,  in  this  obstropalous  manner. 
I'll  warrant  me,  before  her  you  looked 
dashed,  and  kept  bowing  to  the  ground, 
and  talked,  for  all  the  world,  as  if  you  was 
before  a  justice  of  peace. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  Egad!  she  has  hit  it, 
sure  enough.  (To  her.)  In  awe  of  her, 
child  ?  Ha !  ha  I  ha !  A  mere  awkward, 
squinting  thing ;  no,  no.  I  find  you  don't 
know  me.  I  laughed,  and  rallied  her  a 
little ;  but  I  was  unwilling  to  be  too  se- 
vere. No,  I  could  not  be  too  severe. 

Miss  Hard.  Oh !  then,  sir,  you  are  a 
favourite,  I  find,  among  the  ladies. 

Marl.  Yes,  my  dear,  a  great  favourite. 
And  yet,  hang  me,  I  don't  see  what  they 
find  in  me  to  follow.  At  the  ladies'  club 
in  town,  I'm  called  their  agreeable  Rattle. 
Battle,  child,  is  not  my  real  name,  but  one 
I'm  known  by.  My  name  is  Solomons. 
Mr.  Solomons,  my  dear,  at  your  service. 
(Offering  to  salute  her.) 

Miss  Hard.  Hold,  sir ;  you  were  intro- 
ducing me  to  your  club,  not  to  yourself. 
And  you're  so  great  a  favourite  there,  you 
say? 

Marl.  Yes,  my  dear;  there's  Mrs. 
Mantrap,  Lady  Betty  Blackleg,  the  Coun- 
tess of  Sligo,  Mrs.  Langhorns,  old  Miss 
Biddy  Buckskin,  and  your  humble  servant, 
keep  up  the  spirit  of  the  place. 

Miss  Hard.  Then  it's  a  very  merry 
place,  I  suppose. 

Marl.  Yes,  as  merry  as  cards,  suppers, 
wine,  and  old  women  can  make  us. 

Miss  Hard.  And  their  agreeable  Bat- 
tle ;  ha  !  ha !  ha  1 

Marl.  (Aside.)  Indeed !  I  don't  quite 
like  this  chit.  She  looks  knowing,  me- 
thinks.  (To  her) — You  laugh,  child ! 

Miss  Hard.  I  can't  but  laugh  to  think 
what  time  they  all  have  for  minding  their 
work  or  their  family. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  All's  well,  she  don't 
laugh  at  me.  (To  her) — Do  you  ever 
work,  child  ? 


Miss  Hard.  Ay,  sure.  There's  not  a 
screen  or  a  quilt  in  the  whole  house  but 
what  can  bear  witness  to  that. 

Marl.  Odso!  Then  you  must  show 
me  your  embroidery.  I  embroider,  and 
draw  patterns  myself  a  little.  If  you 
want  a  judge  of  your  work,  you  must  ap- 
ply to  me.  (Seizing  her  hand.) 

Miss  Hard.  Ay,  but  the  colours  don't 
look  well  by  candle-light.  You  shall  see 
all  in  the  morning.  (Struggling.) 

Marl.  And  why  not  now,  my  angel  ? 
Such  beauty  fires  beyond  the  power  of 
resistance.  Pshaw !  the  father  here !  My 
old  luck  !  I  never  nicked  seven,  that  I 
did  not  throw  ames-ace  three  times  fol- 
lowing. (Exit  MARLOW.) 

Enter  HARDCASTLE,  who  stands  in  sur- 
prise. 

Hard.  So,  madam !  So  I  find  this  is 
your  modest  lover !  This  is  your  humble 
admirer,  that  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  and  only  adored  at  humble  dis- 
tance. Kate,  Kate!  art  thou  not  ashamed 
to  deceive  your  father  so  ? 

Miss  Hard.  Never  trust  me,  dear  papa, 
but  he's  still  the  modest  man  I  first  took 
him  for ;  you'll  be  convinced  of  it  as  well 
as  I. 

Hard.  By  the  hand  of  my  body,  I  be- 
lieve his  impudence  is  infectious !  Didn't 
I  see  him  seize  your  hand  ?  didn't  I  see 
him  haul  you  about  like  a  milkmaid? 
and  now  you  talk  of  his  respect  and  his 
modesty,  forsooth  I 

Miss  Hard.  But  if  I  shortly  convince 
you  of  his  modesty ;  that  he  has  only  the 
faults  that  will  pass  off  with  time,  and  the 

:  virtues  that  will  improve  with  age,  I  hope 
you'll  forgive  him. 

I  Hard.  The  girl  would  actually  make 
one  run  mad;  I  tell  you,  I'll  not  be  con- 
vinced. I  am  convinced.  He  has  scarce- 

j  ly  been  three  hours  in  the  house,  and  he 
has  already  encroached  on  all  my  pre- 

i  rogatives.  You  may  like  his  impudence, 
and  call  it  modesty ;  but  my  son-in-law, 
madam,  must  have  very  different  qualifi- 
cations. 

i  Miss  Hard.  Sir,  I  ask  but  this  night  to 
convince  you. 

Hard.  You  shall  not  have  half  the 
time;  for  I  have  thoughts  of  turning 
him  out  this  very  hour. 

Miss  Hard.    Give  me  that  hour,  then, 
and  I  hope  to  satisfy  you. 
Hard.    Well,  an  hour  let  it  be,  then. 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


345 


But  I'll  have  no  trifling  with  your  father. 
All  fair  and  open,  do  you  mind  me? 

Miss  Hard.  I  hope,  sir,  you  have  ever 
found  that  I  considered  your  commands 
as  my  pride ;  for  your  kindness  is  such 
that  my  duty  as  yet  has  been  inclination. 

(Exeunt.} 

ACT    IV. 

SCENE  1.— Enter   HASTINGS    and   Miss 
NEVILLE. 

Hast.  You  surprise  me!  Sir  Charles 
Marlow  expected  here  this  night?  Where 
have  you  had  your  information  ? 

Miss  Nev.  You  may  depend  upon  it.  I 
just  saw  his  letter  to  Mr.  Hardcastle,  in 
which  he  tells  him  he  intends  setting  out 
a  few  hours  after  his  son. 

Hast.  Then,  my  Constance,  all  must  be 
completed  before  he  arrives.  He  knows 
me  ',  and  should  he  find  me  here,  would 
discover  my  name,  and  perhaps  my  de- 
signs, to  the  rest  of  the  family. 

Miss  Nev.  The  jewels,  I  hope,  are  safe. 

Hast.  Yes,  yes.  I  have  sent  them  to 
Marlow,  who  keeps  the  keys  of  our  bag- 
gage. In  the  meantime,  I'll  go  to  pre- 
pare matters  for  our  elopement.  I  have 
had  the  squire's  promise  of  a  fresh  pair 
of  horses :  and,  if  I  should  not  see  him 
again,  will  write  him  further  directions. 

(Exit.) 

Miss  Nev.  Well,  success  attend  you. 
In  the  meantime,  I'll  go  amuse  my  aunt 
with  the  old  pretence  of  a  violent  passion 
for  my  cousin.  (Exit.) 

Enter  MARLOW,  followed  by  a  SERVANT. 

Marl.  I  wonder  what  Hastings  could 
mean  by  sending  me  so  valuable  a  thing 
as  a  casket  to  keep  for  him,  when  he 
knows  the  only  place  I  have  is  the  seat 
of  a  post-coach  at  an  inn-door?  Have 
you  deposited  the  casket  with  the  land- 
lady, as  I  ordered  you  ?  Have  you  put 
it  into  her  own  hands  ? 

Serv.  Yes,  your  honour. 

Marl.  She  said  she'd  keep  it  safe,  did 
she? 

Serv.  Yes,  she  said  she'd  keep  it  safe 
enough ;  she  asked  me  how  I  came  by  it, 
and  she  said  she  had  a  great  mind  to 
make  me  give  an  account  of  myself. 

(Exit  Servant.) 

Marl.  Ha !  ha !  ha  !  They're  safe,  how- 
ever. What  an  unaccountable  set  of 
beings  have  we  got  amongst!  This  little 
barmaid,  though,  runs  in  my  head  most 


strangely,  and  drives  out  the  absurdities 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  family.  She's  mine, 
she  must  be  mine,  or  I'm  greatly  mis- 
taken. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.  Bless  me !  I  quite  forgot  to  tell 
her  that  I  intended  to  prepare  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  garden.  Marlow  here,  and  in 
spirits,  too ! 

Marl.  Give  me  joy,  George !  Crown 
me,  shadow  me  with  laurels!  Well, 
George,  after  all,  we  modest  fellows  don't 
want  for  success  among  the  women. 

Hast.  Some  women,  you  mean.  But 
what  success  has  your  honour's  modesty 
been  crowned  with  now,  that  it  grows  so 
insolent  upon  us  ? 

Marl.  Didn't  you  see  the  tempting, 
brisk,  lovely  little  thing  that  runs  about 
the  house,  with  a  bunch  of  keys  to  its 
girdle  ? 

Hast.  Well,  and  what  then  ? 

Marl.  She's  mine,  you  rogue  you.  Such 
fire,  such  motion,  such  eyes,  such  lips — 
but,  egad !  she  would  not  let  me  kiss 
them,  though. 

Hast.  But  are  you  so  sure,  so  very  sure 
of  her? 

Marl.  Why,  man,  she  talked  of  showing 
me  her  work  above  stairs,  and  I'm  to  im- 
prove the  pattern. 

Hast.  You  have  taken  care,  I  hope,  of 
the  casket  I  sent  you  to  lock  up  ?  It's  in 
safety  ? 

Marl.  Yes,  yes ;  it's  safe  enough.  I  have 
taken  care  of  it.  But  how  could  you 
think  the  seat  of  a  post  coach,  at  an  inn- 
door,  a  place  of  safety?  Ah!  numskull ! 
I  have  taken  better  precautions  for  you 
than  you  did  for  yourself.  I  have 

Hast.  What? 

Marl.  I  have  sent  it  to  the  landlady,  to 
keep  for  you. 

Hast.  To  the  landlady  1 

Marl.  The  landlady. 

Hast.  You  did! 

Marl.  I  did.  She's  to  be  answerable 
for  its  forthcoming,  you  know. 

Hast.  Yes,  she'll  bring  it  forth,  with  a 
witness. 

Marl.  Wasn't  I  right?  I  believe  you'll 
allow  that  I  acted  prudently  upon  this  oc- 
casion. 

Hast.  (Aside.}  He  must  not  see  my  un- 
easiness. 

Marl.  You  seem  a  little  disconcerted, 
though,  methinks.  Sure  nothing  has 
happened. 


346 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Hast.  No,  nothing.  Never  was  in  bet- 
ter spirits  in  all  my  life.  And  so  you 
left  it  with  the  landlady,  who,  no  doubt, 
very  readily  undertook  the  charge  ? 

Marl.  Rather  too  readily.  For  she  not 
only  kept  the  casket;  but,  through  her 
great  precaution,  was  going  to  keep  the 
messenger  too.  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 

Hast.  He!  he!  he!  They  are  safe, 
however. 

Marl.  As  a  guinea  in  a  miser's  purse. 

Hast.  (Aside.)  So  now  all  hopes  of  for- 
tune are  at  an  end,  and  we  must  set  off 
without  it.  (To  him.)  Well,  Charles,  I'll 
leave  you  to  your  meditations  on  the 
pretty  barmaid;  and,  he!  he!  he!  may 
you  be  as  successful  for  yourself,  as  you 
have  been  for  me!  (Exit.) 

Marl.  Thank  ye,  George ! 

Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

Hard.  I  no  longer  know  my  own 
house.  It's  turned  all  topsy-turvy.  His 
servants  have  got  drunk  already.  I'll 
bear  it  no  longer ;  and  yet,  for  my  respect 
for  his  father,  I'll  be  calm.  (To  him.) 
Mr.  Marlow,  your  servant.  I'm  your 
very  humble  servant.  (Sowing  low.) 

Marl.  Sir,  your  humble  servant.  (Aside.) 
What's  to  be  the  wonder  now  ? 

Hard.  I  believe,  sir,  you  must  be  sen- 
sible, sir,  that  no  man  alive  ought  to  be 
more  welcome  than  your  father's  son,  sir. 
I  hope  you  think  so. 

Marl.  I  do,  from  my  soul,  sir.  I  don't 
want  much  entreaty.  I  generally  make 
my  father's  son  welcome  wherever  he 
goes. 

Hard.  I  believe  you  do,  from  my  soul, 
sir.  But  though  I  say  nothing  to  your 
own  conduct,  that  of  your  servants  is  in- 
sufferable. Their  manner  of  drinking  is 
setting  a  very  bad  example  in  this  house, 
I  assure  you. 

Marl.  I  protest,  my  very  good  sir,  that's 
no  fault  of  mine.  If  they  don't  drink  as 
they  ought,  they  are  to  blame.  I  ordered 
them  not  to  spare  the  cellar  :  I  did,  I  as- 
sure you.  (To  the  side  scene.)  Here,  let 
one  of  my  servants  come  up.  (To  him.) 
My  positive  directions  were,  that  as  I  did 
not  drink  myself,  they  should  make  up 
for  my  deficiencies  below. 

Hard.  Then,  they  had  your  orders  for 
what  they  do !  I'm  satisfied. 

Marl.  They  had,   I  assure  you.     You 
shall  hear  from  one  of  themselves. 
Enter  Servant,  drunk. 


Marl.  You,  Jeremy!  Come  forward, 
sirrah!  What  were  my  orders?  Were 
you  not  told  to  drink  freely,  and  call  for 
what  you  thought  fit,  for  the  good  of  the 
house  ? 

Hard.  (Aside.)  I  begin  to  lose  my  pa- 
tience. 

Jeremy.  Please  your  honour,  liberty 
and  Fleet  Street  for  ever  I  Though  I'm 
but  a  servant,  I'm  as  good  as  another 
man.  I'll  drink  for  no  man  before  sup- 
per, sir!  Good  liquor  will  sit  upon  a 
good  supper  ;  but  a  good  supper  will  not 
sit  upon — (hiccup) — upon  my  conscience, 
sir. 

Marl.  You  see,  my  old  friend,  the  fel- 
low is  as  drunk  as  he  can  possibly  be.  I 
don't  know  what  you'd  have  more,  unless 
you'd  have  the  poor  fellow  soused  in  a 
beer-barrel. 

Hard.  Zounds!  He'll  drive  me  dis- 
tracted if  I  contain  myself  any  longer. 
(Aside.)  Mr.  Marlow,  sir;  I  have  sub- 
mitted to  your  insolence  for  more  than 
four  hours,  and  I  see  no  likelihood  of  its 
coming  to  an  end.  I'm  now  resolved  to 
be  master  here,  sir ;  and  I  desire  that 
you  and  your  drunken  pack  may  leave 
my  house  directly. 

Marl.  Leave  your  house?  Sure  you 
jest,  my  good  friend !  What !  when  I'm 
doing  what  I  can  to  please  you  ? 

Hard.  I  tell  you,  sir  you  don't  please 
me ;  so  I  desire  you'll  leave  my  house. 

Marl.  Sure  you  cannot  be  serious !  At 
this  time  o'night,  and  such  a  night !  You 
only  mean  to  banter  me. 

Hard.  I  tell  you,  sir,  I'm  serious  ;  and, 
now  that  my  passions  are  roused,  I  say 
this  house  is  mine,  sir ;  this  house  is  mine, 
and  I  command  you  to  leave  it  directly  1 

Marl.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  A  puddle  in  a 
storm.  I  shan't  stir  a  step,  I  assure  you. 
(In  a  serious  tone.)  This  your  house,  fel- 
low !  It's  my  house.  This  is  my  house. 
Mine,  while  I  choose  to  stay.  What 
right  have  you  to  bid  me  leave  this  house, 
sir?  I  never  met  with  such  impudence, 
never  in  my  whole  life  before. 

Hard.  Nor  I,  confound  me  if  ever  I 
did.  To  come  to  my  house,  to  call  for 
what  he  likes,  to  turn  me  out  of  my  own 
chair,  to  insult  the  family,  to  order  his 
servants  to  get  drunk,  and  then  to  tell  me 
This  house  is  mine,  sir.  By  all  that's  im- 
pudent, it  makes  me  laugh.  Ha!  hsil 
Pray,  sir  (bantering),  as  you  take  the 
house,  what  think  you  of  taking  the  rest 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


347 


*f  the  furniture  ?  There's  a  pair  of  silver 
candlesticks,  and  there's  a  fire-screen 
and  here's  a  pair  of  brazen-nosed  bellows 
— perhaps  you  may  take  a  fancy  to  them. 

Marl.  Bring  me  your  bill,  sir ;  bring 
me  your  bill,  and  let's  make  no  more 
words  about  it. 

Hard.  There  are  a  set  of  prints,  too. 
What  think  you  of  the  "  Eake's  Progress  " 
for  your  owu  apartment  ? 

Marl.  Bring  me  your  bill,  I  say ;  and 
I'll  leave  you  and  your  house  directly. 

Hard.  Then  there's  a  mahogany  table, 
that  you  may  see  your  own  face  in. 

Marl.  My  bill,  I  say. 

Hard.  I  had  forgot  the  great  chair,  for 
your  own  particular  slumbers,  after  a 
hearty  meal. 

Marl.  Zounds!  bring  me  my  bill,  I 
say  ;  and  let's  hear  no  more  on't. 

Hard.  Young  man,  young  man,  from 
your  father's  letter  to  me,  I  was  taught  to 
expect  a  well-bred,  modest  man  as  a  vis- 
itor here ;  but  now  I  find  him  no  better 
than  a  COXCOMB  and  a  bully.  But  he 
will  be  down  here  presently,  and  shall 
hear  more  of  it.  (Exit.} 

Marl.  How's  this  ?  Sure  I  have  not 
mistaken  the  house!  Everything  looks 
like  an  inn.  The  servants  cry,  Coming. 
The  attendance  is  awkward ;  the  barmaid, 
too,  to  attend  us.  But  she's  here,  and 
will  further  inform  me.  Whither  so  fast, 
child?  A  word  with  yon. 

Enter  MlSS  HARDCASTLE. 

Miss  Hard.  Let  it  be  short,  then.  I'm 
in  a  hurry.  (Aside)  I  believe  he  begins 
to  find  out  his  mistake ;  but  it's  too  soon 
quite  to  undeceive  him. 

Marl.  Pray,  child,  answer  me  one 
question.  What  are  you,  and  what  may 
your  business  in  the  house  be  ? 

Miss  Hard.  A  relation  of  the  family,  sir. 

Marl.  What !  a  poor  relation  ? 

Miss  Hard.  Yes,  sir ;  a  poor  relation, 
appointed  to  keep  the  keys,  and  to  see 
that  the  guests  want  nothing  in  my  power 
to  give  them. 

Marl.  That  is,  you  act  as  the  barmaid 
of  the  inn. 

Miss  Hard.  Inn!  Oh,  la!  What 
brought  that  in  your  head  ?  One  of  the 
best  families  in  the  country  keep  an  inn  ! 
Ha !  ha !  ha !  old  Mr.  Hardcastle's  house 
an  inn ! 

Marl.  Mr.  Hardcastle's  house !  Is  this 
house  Mr.  Hardcastle's  house,  child  ? 


Miss  Hard.     Ay,  sure.      Whose  else 
should  it  be  ? 

Marl.  So  then  all's  out,  and  I  have 
been  imposed  on.  Oh,  confound  my 
stupid  head !  I  shall  be  laughed  at  over 
the  whole  town.  I  shall  be  stuck  up  in 
caricatura  in  all  print  shops ;  the  Dullis- 
simo  Maccaroni.  To  mistake  this  house, 
of  all  others,  for  an  inn ;  and  my  father's 
old  friend  for  an  innkeeper!  What  a 
swaggering  puppy  must  he  take  me  for! 
What  a  silly  puppy  do  I  find  myself! 
There  again,  may  I  be  hanged,  my  dear, 
but  I  mistook  you  for  the  barmaid. 

Miss  Hard.  Dear  me !  dear  me !  I'm 
sure  there's  nothing  in  my  behaviour  to 
put  me  upon  a  level  with  one  of  that 
stamp. 

Marl.  Nothing,  my  dear,  nothing.  But 
I  was  in  for  a  list  of  blunders,  and  could 
not  help  making  you  a  subscriber.  My 
stupidity  saw  everything  the  wrong  way. 
I  mistook  your  assiduity  for  assurance, 
and  your  simplicity  for  allurement.  Bui; 
it's  over.  This  house  I  no  more  show  my 
face  in. 

Miss  Hard.  I  hope,  sir,  I  have  done 
nothing  to  disoblige  you.  I'm  sure  I 
should  be  sorry  to  affront  any  gentleman 
who  has  been  so  polite,  and  said  so  many 
civil  things  to  me.  I'm  sure  I  should  be 
sorry  (pretending  to  cry)  if  he  left  the 
family  upon  my  account.  I'm  sure  I 
should  be  sorry,  people  said  anything 
amiss,  since  I  have  no  fortune  but  my 
character. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  By  Heaven,  she  weeps. 
This  is  the  first  mark  (of  tenderness  I 
ever  had  from  a  modest  woman,  and  it 
touches  me.  (To  her.)  Excuse  me,  my 
lovely  girl,  you  are  the  only  part  of  the 
family  that  I  leave  with  reluctance.  But 
to  be  plain  with  you,  the  difference  of 
our  birth,  fortune,  and  education,  make 
an  honourable  connection  impossible;  and 
I  can  never  harbour  a  thought  of  bringing 
ruin  upon  one  whose  only  fault  was  being 
too  lovely. 

Miss  Hard.  (Aside).  Generous  man!  I 
now  begin  to  admire  him.  (  To  him.) 
But  I'm  sure  my  family  is  as  good  as  Mr. 
Hardcastle's ;  and  though  I'm  poor,  that's 
no  great  misfortune  to  a  contented  mind ; 
and  until  this  moment,  I  never  thought 
that  it  was  bad  to  want  fortune. 

Marl.  And  why  now,  my  pretty  simpli- 
city? 

Miss  Hard.  Because  it  puts  me  at  a  dis- 


348 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


tance  from  one,  that  if  I  had  a  thousand 
pound,  I  would  give  it  all  to. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  This  simplicity  bewitches 
me  so,  that  if  I  stay  I'm  undone.  I  must 
make  one  bold  effort,  and  leave  her.  ( To 
her.)  Your  partiality  in  my  favour,  my 
dear,  touches  me  most  sensibly ;  and  were 
I  to  live  for  myself  alone,  I  could  easily 
fix  my  choice.  But  I  owe  too  much  to 
the  opinion  of  the  world,  too  much  to  the 
authority  of  a  father,  so  that — I  can 
scarcely  speak  it — it  affects  me.  Farewell. 

(Exit.) 

Miss  Hard.  I  never  knew  half  his  merit 
till  now.  He  shall  not  go,  if  I  have 
power  or  art  to  detain  him.  I'll  still  pre- 
serve the  character  in  which  I  stooped  to 
conquer;  but  will  undeceive  my  papa, 
who,  perhaps,  may  laugh  him  out  of  his 
resolution.  (Exit.} 

Enter  TONY  AND  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Tony.  Ay,  you  may  steal  for  yourselves 
the  next  time.  I  have  done  my  duty. 
She  has  got  the  jewels  again,  that's  a  sure 
thing ;  but  she  believes  it  was  all  a  mis- 
take of  the  servants. 

Miss  Nev.  But,  my  dear  cousin,  sure 
you  won't  forsake  us  in  this  distress.  If 
she  in  the  least  suspects  that  I'm  going  off, 
I  shall  certainly  be  locked  up,  or  sent  to 
my  Aunt  Pedigree's,  which  is  ten  times 
worse. 

Tony.  To  be  sure,  aunts  of  all  kinds  are 
bad  things ;  but  what  can  I  do?  I  have 
got  you  a  pair  of  horses  that  will  fly  like 
Whistle-jacket,  and  I'm  sure  you  can't 
say  but  I  have  courted  you  nicely  before 
her  face.  Here  she  comes ;  we  must  court 
a  bit  or  two  more,  for  fear  she  should  sus- 
pect us.  ( They  retire  and  seem  to  fondle. ) 

Enter  MRS.  HABDCASTLE. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Well,  I  waa  greatly  flut- 
tered, to  be  sure.  But  my  son  tells  me  it 
was  all  a  mistake  of  the  servants.  I  shan't 
be  easy,  however,  till  they  are  fairly  mar- 
ried, and  then  let  her  keep  her  own  for- 
tune. But  what  do  I  see  ?  Fondling  to- 
gether, as  I'm  alive.  I  never  saw  Tony 
so  sprightly  before.  Ah !  have  I  caught 
you,  my  pretty  doves?  What!  billing, 
exchanging  stolen  glances,  and  broken 
murmurs?  Ah! 

Tony.  As  for  murmurs,  mother,  we 
grumble  a  little,  now  and  then,  to  be  sure. 
But  there's  no  love  lost  between  us. 

Mrs.  Hard.    A  mere  sprinkling,  Tony, 


upon  the  flame,  only  to  make  it  burn 
brighter. 

Miss  Nev.  Cousin  Tony  promises  to 
give  us  more  of  his  company  at  home. 
Indeed,  he  shan't  leave  us  any  more. 
It  won't  leave  us,  cousin  Tony,  will  it? 

Tony.  Oh !  it's  a  pretty  creature.  No, 
I'd  sooner  leave  my  horse  in  a  pound, 
than  leave  you,  when  you  smile  upon 
one  so.  Your  laugh  makes  you  so  be- 
coming. 

Miss  Nev.  Agreeable  cousin!  Who 
can  help  admiring  that  natural  humour, 
that  pleasant,  broad,  red,  thoughtless 
(patting  his  cheek],  ah!  it's  a  bold  face. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Pretty  innocence ! 

Tony.  I'm  sure  I  always  loved  cousin 
Con's  hazel  eyes,  and  her  pretty  long  fin- 
gers, that  she  twists  this  way  and  that, 
over  the  haspicolls,  like  a  parcel  of 
bobbins. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ah !  he  would  charm  the 
bird  from  the  tree.  I  was  never  so  happy 
before.  My  boy  takes  after  his  father, 
poor  Mr.  Lumpkin,  exactly.  The  jewels, 
my  dear  Con,  shall  be  yours  incontinently. 
You  shall  have  them.  Isn't  he  a  sweet 
boy,  my  dear?  You  shall  be  married  to- 
morrow, and  we'll  put  off  the  rest  of  his 
education,  like  Mr.  Drowsy's  sermons,  to 
a  fitter  opportunity. 


Enter  DlGGOEY. 


have 


She 


Digg.    Where's  the  'squire?    I 
got  a  letter  for  your  worship. 

Tony.    Give  it  to  my  mamma, 
reads  all  my  letters  first. 

Digg.  I  had  orders  to  deliver  it  into 
your  own  hands. 

Tony.    Who  does  it  come  from  T 

Digg.  Your  worship  mun  ask  that  o' 
the  letter  itself. 

Tony.  I  could  wish  to  know,  though. 
(Turning  the  letter  and  gazing  on  it.) 

Miss  Nev.  (Aside.)  Undone,  undone ! 
A  letter  to  him  from  Hastings.  I  know 
the  hand.  If  my  aunt  sees  it,  we  are 
ruined  for  ever.  I'll  keep  her  employed 
a  little,  if  I  can.  (To  MRS.  HARDCAS- 
TLE.  )  But  I  have  not  told  you,  madam, 
of  my  cousin's  smart  answer  just  now  to 
Mr.  Marlow.  We  so  laughed.  Yon  must 
know,  madam — this  way  a  little ;  for  he 
must  not  hear  us.  ( They  confer). 

Tony.    (Still  gazing.)     A  cramp 

piece  of  penmanship,  as  ever  I  saw  in 
my  life.  I  can  read  your  print-hand 
very  well.  But  here  there  are  such  han- 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


349 


Ales,  and  shanks,  and  dashes,  that  one 
can  scarce  tell  the  head  from  the  tail. 
"To  Anthony  Lumpkin,  Esq.''  It's  very 
odd,  I  can  read  the  outside  of  my  letters, 
where  my  own  name  is,  well  enough. 
But  when  I  come  to  open  it,  it  is  all — 
buzz.  That's  hard,  very  hard;  for  the 
inside  of  the  letter  is  always  the  cream  of 
the  correspondence. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ha^!  ha !  ha !  Very  well, 
very  well.  And  so  my  son  was  too  hard 
for  the  philosopher. 

Miss  Nev.  Yes,  madam  ;  but  you  must 
hear  the  rest,  madam.  A  little  more  this 
way,  or  he  may  hear  us.  You'll  hear 
how  he  puzzled  him  again. 

Mrs.  Hard.  He  seems  strangely  puz- 
zled now  himself,  methinks. 

Tony.  (Still  gazing.}  An  up  and  down 
hand,  as  if  it  was  disguised  in  liquor. 
(Reading.}  "Dear  Sir."  Ay,  that's  that. 
Then  there's  an  M,  and  a  T,  and  a  8; 
but  whether  the  next  be  izzard  or  an  R, 
confound  me,  I  cannot  tell. 

Mrs.  Hard.  What's  that,  my  dear?  Can 
I  give  you  any  assistance? 

Miss  Nev.  Pray,  aunt,  let  me  read  it. 
Nobody  reads  a  cramp  hand  better  than 
I.  ( Twitching  the  letter  from  him. )  Do 
you  know  who  it  is  from  ? 

Tony.  Can't  tell,  except  from  Dick 
Ginger,  the  feeder. 

Miss  Nev.  Ay,  so  it  is.  (Pretending  to  read.} 
"  Dear  'Squire, — Hoping  that  you're  in 
health,  as  I  am  at  this  present.  The  gen- 
tlemen of  the  Shake-bag  club  has  cut  the 
gentlemen  of  the  Goose-green  quite  out  of 
feather.  The  odds — um — odd  battle — um 
— long  fighting — um — "  Here,  here;  it's 
all  about  cocks  and  fighting;  it's  of  no 
consequence ;  here,  put  it  up,  put  it  up. 
( Thrusting  the  crumpled  letter  upon  him.} 

Tony.  But  I  tell  you,  miss,  it's  of  all 
the  consequence  in  the  world.  I  would 
not  lose  the  rest  of  it  for  a  guinea.  Here, 
mother,  do  you  make  it  out.  Of  no  conse- 
quence ! 

Giving  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  the  letter.} 

Mrs.  Hard.    How's  this?     (Reads.} — 

Dear  'Squire, — I'm  now  waiting  for  Miss 
Neville,  with  a  post-chaise  and  pair,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden,  but  I  find  my  horses 
yet  unable  to  perform  the  journey.  I  ex- 
pect you'll  assist  us  with  a  pair  of  fresh 
horses,  as  you  promised.  Dispatch  is  ne- 
cessary, as  the  hag  (ay,  the  hag),  your 
mother,  will  otherwise  suspect  us. 

Yours,  HASTINGS. 


Grant  me  patience!  I  shall  run  dis- 
tracted !  My  rage  chokes  me ! 

Miss  Nev.  I  hope,  madam,  you'll  sus- 
pend your  resentment  for  a  few  moments, 
and  not  impute  to  me  any  impertinence, 
or  sinister  design  that  belongs  to  another. 

Mrs.  Hard.  ( Curtseying  very  low.)  Fine- 
spoken  madam,  you  are  most  miraculous- 
ly polite  and  engaging,  and  quite  the 
very  pink  of  courtesy  and  circumspection, 
madam.  (Changing  her  tone.)  And  you, 
you  great  ill-fashioned  oaf,  with  scarce 
sense  enough  to  keep  your  mouth  shut ! 
were  you,  too,  joined  against  me  ?  But 
I'll  defeat  all  your  plots  in  a  moment.  As 
for  you,  madam,  since  you  have  got  a 
pair  of  fresh  horses  ready,  it  would  be 
cruel  to  disappoint  them.  So,  if  you 
please,  instead  of  running  away  with 
your  spark,  prepare,  this  very  moment,  to 
run  off  with  me.  Your  old  Aunt  Pedi- 
gree will  keep  you  secure,  I'll  warrant 
me.  You  too,  sir,  may  mount  your 
horse,  and  guard  us  upon  the  way.  Here, 
Thomas,  Roger,  Diggory,  I'll  show  you 
that  I  wish  you  better  than  you  do  your- 
selves. (Exit). 

Miss  -Nev.  So,  now  I'm  completely 
ruined. 

Tony.  Ay,  that's  a  sure  thing. 

Miss  Nev.  What  better  could  be  ex- 
pected, from  being  connected  with  such  a 
stupid  fool,  and  after  all  the  nods  and 
signs  I  made  him  ? 

Tony.  By  the  laws,  miss,  it  was  your 
own  cleverness,  and  not  my  stupidity, 
that  did  your  business.  You  were  so 
nice,  and  so  busy,  with  your  Shake-bags 
and  Goose-greens,  that  I  thought  you 
could  never  be  making  believe. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.  So,  sir,  I  find  by  my  servant  that 
you  have  shown  my  letter  and  betrayed 
us.  Was  this  well  done,  young  gentle- 
man? 

Tony.  Here's  another.  Ask  miss,  there, 
who  betrayed  you.  Ecod,  it  was  her 
doing,  not  mine. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

Marl.  So,  I  have  been  finely  used  here 
among  you.  Rendered  contemptible, 
driven  into  ill  manners,  despised,  insulted, 
laughed  at. 

Tony.  Here's  another.  We  shall  have 
old  Bedlam  broke  loose  presently. 

Miss  Nev.  And  there,  sir,  is  the  gentle- 


350 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


man  to  whom  we  all  owe  every  obliga- 
tion. 

Marl.  What  can  I  say  to  him,  a  mere 
boy,  an  idiot,  whose  ignorance  and  age  are 
a  protection  ? 

Hast.  A  poor  contemptible  booby,  that 
would  but  disgrace  correction. 

Miss  Nev.  Yet  with  cunning  and  ma- 
lice enough  to  make  himself  merry  with 
all  our  embarrassments. 

Hast.  An  insensible  cub  I 

Marl.  Eeplete  with  tricks  and  mischief. 

Tony.  Bawl  but  I'll  fight  you  both, 
one  after  the  other — with  baskets. 

Marl.  As  for  him,  he's  below  resent- 
ment. But  your  conduct,  Mr.  Hastings, 
requires  an  explanation.  You  knew  of 
my  mistakes,  yet  would  not  undeceive  me. 

Hast.  Tortured  as  I  am  with  my  own 
disappointments,  is  this  a  time  for  ex- 

Elanations  ?    It  is  not  friendly,  Mr.  Mar- 
3W. 

Marl.    But,  sir 

Miss  Nev.  Mr.  Marlow,  we  never  kept 
on  your  mistake,  till  it  was  too  late  to 
undeceive  you.  Be  pacified. 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.  My  mistress  desires  you'll  get 
ready  immediately,  madam.  The  horses 
are  putting  to.  Your  hat  and  things  are 
in  the  next  room.  We  are  to  go  thirty 
miles  before  morning.  (Exit  Servant.) 

Miss  Nev.  Well,  well ;  I'll  come  pre- 
sently. 

Marl.  (To  HASTINGS.)  Was  it  well 
done,  sir,  to  assist  in  rendering  me  ridi- 
culous ?  To  hang  me  out  for  the  scorn  of 
all  my  acquaintance?  Depend  upon  it, 
sir,  I  shall  expect  an  explanation. 

Hast.  Was  it  well  done,  sir,  if  you're 
upon  that  subject,  to  deliver  what  I  en- 
trusted to  yourself  to  the  care  of  another, 
sir? 

Miss  Nev.  Mr.  Hastings,  Mr.  Marlow, 
why  will  you  increase  my  distress  by  this 
groundless  dispute  ?  I  implore,  I  entreat 

you 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.  Your  cloak,  madam.  My  mis- 
tress is  impatient. 

Miss  Nev.  I  come.  Pray  be  pacified. 
If  I  leave  you  thus,  I  shall  die  with  ap- 
prehension. 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.  Your  fan,  muff,  and  gloves,  ma- 
dam. The  horses  are  waiting. 


Miss  Nev.  Oh,  Mr.  Marlow!  if  you 
knew  what  a  scene  of  constraint  and  ill- 
nature  lies  before  me,  I'm  sure  it  would 
convert  your  resentment  into  pity. 

Marl.  I'm  so  distracted  with  a  variety 
of  passions,  that  I  don't  know  what  I  do. 
Forgive  me,  madam.  George,  forgive  me. 
You  know  my  hasty  temper,  and  should 
not  exasperate  it. 

Hast.  The  torture  of  my  situation  is 
my  only  excuse. 

Miss  Nev.  Well,  my  dear  Hastings,  if 
you  have  that  esteem  for  me  that  I  think, 
that  I  am  sure  you  have,  your  constancy 
for  three  years  will  but  increase  the  hap- 
piness of  our  future  connection.  If 

Mrs.  Hard.  (  Within.)  Miss  Neville. 
Constance,  why,  Constance,  I  say. 

Miss  Nev.  I'm  coming.  Well,  con- 
stancy. Kemember,  constancy  is  the 
word.  (Exit.) 

Hast.  My  heart,  how  can  I  support 
this  ?  To  be  so  near  happiness,  and  such 
happiness  I 

Marl.  ( To  TONY.)  You  see  now,  young 
gentleman,  the  effects  of  your  folly.  What 
might  be  amusement  to  you,  is  here  dis- 
appointment, and  even  distress. 

Tony.  (From  a  reverie.)  Ecod,  I  have 
hit  it.  It's  here.  Your  hands.  Yours 
and  yours,  my  poor  sulky.  My  boots 
there,  ho !  Meet  me  two  hours  hence  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden ;  and  if  you  don't 
find  Tony  Lumpkin  a  more  good-natured 
fellow  than  you  thought  for,  I'll  give  you 
leave  to  take  my  best  horse,  and  Bet 
Bouncer  into  the  bargain.  Come  along. 
My  boots,  ho !  ( Exeunt. ) 

ACT  V. 

SCENE  I. — Scene  continues. 
Enter  HASTINGS  and  SERVANT. 

Hast.  You  saw  the  old  lady  and  Miss 
Neville  drive  off,  you  say  ? 

Serv.  Yes,  your  honor;  they  went  off 
in  a  post-coach,  and  the  young  'squire 
went  on  horseback.  They're  thirty  miles 
off  by  this  time. 

Hast.    Then  all  my  hopes  are  over. 

Serv.  Yes,  sir.  Old  Sir  Charles  is 
arrived.  He  and  the  old  gentleman  of  the 
house  have  been  laughing  at  Mr.  Marlow's 
mistake  this  half-hour.  They  are  coming 
this  way. 

Hast.  Then  I  must  not  be  seen.  So 
now  to  my  fruitless  appointment  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Garden.  This  is  about  the 
time.  (Exit.) 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


351 


Enter  SIR  CHARLES  and  HARDCASTLE. 

Hard.  Ha!  ha!  ha  I  The  peremptory 
tone  in  which  he  sent  forth  his  sublime 
commands ! 

Sir  Charles.  And  the  reserve  with 
which  I  suppose  he  treated  all  your  ad- 
vancea I 

Hard.  And  yet  he  might  have  seen 
something  in  me  above  a  common  inn- 
keeper, too. 

Sir  Charles.  Yes,  Dick,  but  he  mistook 
you  for  an  uncommon  innkeeper,  ha  !  ha! 
ha! 

Hard.  Well,  I'm  in  too  good  spirits  to 
think  of  anything  but  joy.  Yes,  my  dear 
friend,  this  union  of  our  families  will  make 
our  personal  friendships  hereditary  ;  and 
though  my  daughter's  fortune  is  but 
small 

Sir  Charles.  Why,  Dick,  will  you  talk 
of  fortune  to  me  f  My  son  is  possessed  of 
more  than  a  competence  already,  and  can 
want  nothing  but  a  good  and  virtuous 
girl  to  share  his  happiness  and  increase 
it.  If  they  like  each  other,  as  you  say 
they  do 

Hard.  If,  man  !  I  tell  you  they  do 
like  each  other.  My  daughter  as  good  as 
told  me  so. 

Sir  Charles.  But  girls  are  apt  to  natter 
themselves,  you  know. 

Hard.  I  saw  him  grasp  her  hand  in 
the  warmest  manner  myself;  and  here  he 
comes  to  put  you  outof  your  if 8, 1  warrant 
him. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

Marl.  I  come,  sir,  once  more,  to  ask 
pardon  for  my  conduct.  I  can  scarce 
reflect  on  my  insolence  without  confusion. 

Hard.  Tut,  boy,  a  trifle.  You  take  it 
too  gravely.  An  hour  or  two's  laughing 
with  my  daughter  will  set  all  to  rights 
again.  She'll  never  like  you  the  worse 
for  it. 

Marl.  Sir,  I  shall  be  always  proud  of 
her  approbation. 

Hard.  Approbation  is  but  a  cold  word, 
Mr.  Marlow :  if  I  am  not  deceived,  you 
have  something  more  than  approbation 
thereabouts.  You  take  me  ? 

Marl.  Really,  sir,  I  have  not  that  hap- 
piness. 

Hard.  Come,  boy,  I'm  an  old  fellow, 
and  know  what's  what,  as  well  as  you  that 
are  younger.  I  know  what  has  passed 
between  you ;  but  mum. 

Marl.    Sure,  sir,  nothing  has  passed  be- 


tween us,  but  the  most  profound  respect 
on  my  side,  and  the  most  distant  reserve 
on  hers.  You  don't  think,  sir,  that  my 
impudence  has  been  passed  upon  all  the 
rest  of  the  family  ? 

Hard.  Impudence!  No,  I  don't  say 
that.  Not  quite  impudence.  Though 
girls  like  to  be  played  with,  and  rumpled 
a  little  too,  sometimes.  But  she  has  told 
no  tales,  I  assure  you. 

Marl.  I  never  gave  her  the  slightest 
cause. 

Hard.  Well,  well,  I  like  modesty  in  its 
place  well  enough.  But  this  is  over-act- 
ing, young  gentleman.  You  may  be  open. 
Your  father  and  I  will  like  you  the  bet- 
ter for  it. 

Marl.    May  I  die,  Bir,  if  I  ever 

Hard.  I  tell  you,  she  don't  dislike  you ; 
and  I  am  sure  you  like  her 

Marl.    Dear  sir — I  protest  sir 

Hard.  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  be  joined  as  fast  as  the  parson  can  tie 
you. 

Marl.     But  hear  me,  sir 

Hard.  Your  father  approves  the  match, 
I  admire  it,  every  moment's  delay  will  be 
doing  mischief,  so — 

Marl.  But  why  won't  you  hear  me  ? 
By  all  that's  just  and  true,  I  never  gave 
Miss  Hard  castle  the  slightest  mark  of  my 
attachment,  or  even  the  most  distant  hint 
to  suspect  me  of  affection.  We  had  but 
one  interview,  and  that  was  formal, 
modest,  and  uninteresting. 

Hard.  (Aside).  Thia  fellow's  formal, 
modest  impudence  is  beyond  bearing. 

Sir  Charles.  And  you  never  grasped 
her  hand,  or  made  any  protestations  ? 

Marl.  As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I 
came  down  in  obedience  to  your  com- 
mands. I  saw  the  lady  without  emotion, 
and  parted  without  reluctance.  I  hope 
you'll  exact  no  further  proofs  of  my  duty, 
nor  prevent  me  from  leaving  a  house  in 
which  I  suffer  so  many  mortifications. 

(Exit.) 

Sir  Charles.  I'm  astonished  at  the  air 
of  sincerity  with  which  he  parted. 

Hard.  And  I'm  astonished  at  the  de- 
iberate  intrepidity  of  his  assurance. 

Sir  Charles.  I  dare  pledge  my  life  and 
aonour  upon  his  truth. 

Hard.  Here  comes  my  daughter,  and 
[  would  stake  my  happiness  upon  her 
veracity. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 


852 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


Hard,  Kate,  come  hither,  child.  An- 
swer us  sincerely,  and  without  reserve: 
has  Mr.  Marlow  made  you  any  professions 
of  love  and  affection? 

Miss  Hard.  The  question  is  very  abrupt, 
sir.  But  since  you  require  unreserved 
sincerity,  I  think  he  has. 

Hard.    ( To  SIR  CHARLES).    You  see. 

Sir  Charles.  And  pray,  madam,  have 
you  and  my  son  had  more  than  one  inter- 
view? 

Miss  Hard.  Yes,  sir,  several. 

Hard.    (To  SIR  CHARLES.)  You  see. 

Sir  Charles.  But  did  he  profess  any  at- 
tachment ? 

Miss  Hard.  A  lasting  one. 

Sir  Charles.  Did  he  talk  of  love  ? 

Miss  Hard.    Much,  sir. 

Sir  Charles.  Amazing !  and  all  this 
formally  ? 

Miss  Hard.    Formally. 

Hard.  Now,  my  friend,  I  hope  you  are 
satisfied? 

Sir  Charles.  And  how  did  he  behave, 
madam  ? 

Miss  Hard.  As  most  professed  admirers 
do.  Said  some  civil  things  of  my  face; 
talked  much  of  his  want  of  merit,  and  the 
greatness  of  mine;  mentioned  his  heart; 
gave  a  short  tragedy  speech,  and  ended 
with  pretended  rapture. 

Sir  Charles.  Now  I'm  perfectly  con- 
vinced, indeed.  I  know  his  conversation 
among  women  to  be  modest  and  submis- 
sive. This  forward,  canting,  ranting  man- 
ner by  no  means  describes  him,  and  I  am 
confident  he  never  sat  for  the  picture. 

Miss  Hard.  Then  what,  sir,  if  I  should 
convince  you  to  your  face  of  my  sincerity? 
If  you  and  my  papa,  in  about  half  an 
hour,  will  place  yourselves  behind  that 
screen,  you  shall  hear  him  declare  his 
passion  to  me  in  person. 

Sir  Charles.  Agreed.  And  if  I  find  him 
what  you  describe,  all  my  happiness  in 
him  must  have  an  end.  (Exit.) 

Miss  Hard.  And  if  you  don't  find  him 
what  I  describe — I  fear  my  happiness 
must  never  have  a  beginning.  (Exeunt.) 

Scene  changes  to  the  back  of  the  Garden. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.  What  an  idiot  am  I,  to  wait  here 
for  a  fellow  who  probably  takes  a  delight 
in  mortifying  me !  He  never  intended  to 
be  punctual,  and  I'll  wait  no  longer. 
What  do  I  see?  It  is  he,  and  perhaps 
with  news  of  my  Constance. 


Enter  TONY,  booted  and  spattered. 

Hast.  My  honest  'squire  1  I  now  find 
you  a  man  of  your  word.  This  looks  like 
friendship. 

Tony.  Ay,  I'm  your  friend,  and  the 
best  friend  you  have  in  the  world,  if  you 
knew  but  all.  This  riding  by  night,  by- 
the-by,  is  cursedly  tiresome.  It  has  shook 
me  worse  than  the  basket  of  a  stage-coach. 

Hast.  But  how?  Where  did  you  leave 
your  fellow-travellers?  Are  they  in 
safety  ?  Are  they  housed  ? 

Tony.  Five-and-twenty  miles  in  two 
hours  and  a  half  is  no  such  bad  driving. 
The  poor  beasts  have  smoked  for  it. 
Babbit  me,  but  I'd  rather  ride  forty  miles 
after  a  fox,  than  ten  with  such  varment. 

Hast.  Well,  but  where  have  you  left 
the  ladies?  I  die  with  impatience. 

Tony.  Left  them?  Why,  where  should 
I  leave  them;  but  where  I  found  them  ? 

Hast.    This  is  a  riddle. 

Tony.  Riddle  me  this  then.  What's 
that  goes  round  the  house,  and  round  the 
house,  and  never  touches  the  house  ? 

Hast.    I'm  still  astray. 

Tony.  Why,  that's  it,  mon.  I  have  led 
them  astray.  By  jingo,  there's  not  a  pond 
or  slough  within  five  miles  of  the  place, 
but  they  can  tell  the  taste  of. 

Hast.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  understand  :  you 
took  them  in  a  round,  while  they  supposed 
themselves  going  forward.  And  so  you 
have  at  last  brought  them  home  again. 

Tony.  You  shall  hear.  I  first  took 
them  down  Feather-bed  Lane,  where  we 
stuck  fast  in  the  mud.  I  then  rattled 
them  crack  over  the  stones  of  Up-and- 
down  Hill — I  then  introduced  them  to 
the  gibbet,  on  Heavy-tree  Heath;  and 
from  that  with  a  circumbendibus,  I  fairly 
lodged  them  in  the  horse-pond  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden. 

Hast.     But  no  accident,  I  hope. 

Tony.  No,  no.  Only  mother  is  con- 
foundedly frightened.  She  thinks  herself 
forty  miles  off.  She's  sick  of  the  journey, 
and"  the  cattle  can  scarce  crawl.  So,  if 
your  own  horses  be  ready,  you  may  whip 
off  with  cousin,  and  I'll  be  bound  that  no 
soul  here  can  budge  a  foot  to  follow  you. 

Hast.  My  dear  friend,  how  can  I  be 
grateful ? 

Tony.  Ay,  now  it's  dear  friend,  noble 
'squire.  Just  now,  it  was  all  idiot,  cub, 
and  run  me  through  the  guts.  Confound 
your  way  of  fighting,  I  say.  After  we 
take  a  knock  in  this  part  of  the  country, 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


353 


we  kiss  and  be  friends.  But,  if  you  had 
run  me  through  the  guts,  then  I  should 
be  dead,  and  you  might  go  kiss  the  hang- 
man. 

Hast.  The  rebuke  is  just.  But  I  must 
hasten  to  relieve  Miss  Neville;  if  you 
keep  the  old  lady  employed,  I  promise  to 
take  care  of  the  young  one. 

(Exit  HASTINGS.) 

Tony.  Never  fear  me.  Here  she  comes. 
Vanish!  She's  got  from  the  pond,  and 
draggled  up  to  the  waist  like  a  mermaid. 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Oh,  Tony,  I'm  killed— 
shook — battered  to  death.  I  shall  never 
survive  it.  That  last  jolt,  that  laid  us 
against  the  quickset  hedge,  has  done  my 
business. 

Tony.  Alack  !  mamma,  it  was  all  your 
own  fault.  You  would  be  for  running 
away  by  night,  without  knowing  one 
inch  of  the  way. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I  wish  we  were  at  home 
again.  I  never  met  so  many  accidents  in 
so  short  a  journey.  Drenched  in  the 
mud,  overturned  in  a  ditch,  stuck  fast  in 
a  slough,  jolted  to  a  jelly,  and  at  last  to 
lose  our  way !  Whereabouts  do  you  think 
we  are,  Tony  ? 

Tony.  By  my  guess  we  should  be  upon 
Crackskull  Common,  about  forty  miles 
from  home. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Oh,  lud!  oh,  lud!  the 
most  notorious  spot  in  all  the  country. 
We  only  want  a  robbery  to  make  a  com- 
plete night  on't. 

Tony.  Don't  be  afraid,  mamma !  don't 
be  afraid.  Two  of  the  five  that  were  kept 
here  are  hanged,  and  the  other  three  may 
not  find  us.  Don't  be  afraid.  Is  that  a 
man  that's  galloping  behind  us?  No; 
it's  only  a  tree.  Don't  be  afraid. 

Mrs.  Hard.  The  fright  will  certainly 
kill  me. 

Tony.  Do  you  see  anything  like  a 
black  hat  moving  behind  the  thicket  ? 

Mr*.  Hard.    Oh,  death  ! 

Tony.  No,  it's  only  a  cow.  Don't  be 
afraid,  mamma  ;  don't  be  afraid. 

Mrs.  Hard.  As  I'm  alive,  Tony,  I  see 
a  man  coming  towards  us.  Ah  !  I'm  sure 
on't.  If  he  perceives  us,  we  are  undone. 

Tony.  (Aside.)  Father-in-law,  by  all 
that's  unlucky,  come  to  take  one  of  his 
night  walks.  ( To  her.}  Ah  !  it's  a  high- 
wayman,, with  pistols  as  long  as  my  arm. 
An  ill-looking  fellow. 

VOL.  II.— W.  H. 


Mrs.  Hard.  Good  heaven!  defend  usl 
He  approaches. 

Tony.  Do  you  hide  yourself  in  the 
thicket,  and  leave  me  to  manage  him.  If 
there  be  any  danger,  I'll  cough  and  cry — 
hem !  When  I  cough,  be  sure  to  keep 
close. 

(MRS.  HARDCASTLE  hides  behind  a  treey 
in  the  back  scene.} 

Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

Hard.  I'm  mistaken,  or  I  heard  voices 
of  people  in  want  of  help.  Oh,  Tony,  is 
that  you  ?  I  did  not  expect  you  so  soon 
back.  Are  your  mother  and  her  charge 
in  safety  ? 

Tony.  Very  safe,  sir,  at  my  Aunt  Pedi- 
gree's. Hem ! 

Mrs.  Hard.  (From  behind.)  Ah,  death  ! 
I  find  there's  danger. 

Hard.  Forty  miles  in  three  hours ; 
sure  that's  too  much,  my  youngster. 

Tony.  Stout  horses  and  willing  minda 
make  short  journeys,  as  they  say.  Hemf 

Mrs.  Hard,  (from  behind.)  Sure  he'll 
do  the  dear  boy  no  harm  I 

Hard.  But  I  heard  a  voice  here ;  1 
shall  be  glad  to  know  from  whence  it 
came. 

Tony.  It  was  I,  sir ;  talking  to  myself, 
sir.  I  was  saying,  forty  miles  in  three 
hours  was  very  good  going — hem !  As  to 
be  sure,  it  was — hem  !  I  have  got  a  sort 
of  cold  by  being  out  in  the  air.  We'll  go 
in,  if  you  please — hem ! 

Hard.  But  if  you  talked  to  yourself, 
you  did  not  answer  yourself.  I  am  cer- 
tain I  heard  two  voices,  and  am  resolved 
(raising  his  voice)  to  find  the  other  out. 

Mrs.  Hard,  (from  behind.)  Oh !  he's 
coming  to  find  me  out.  Oh ! 

Tony.  What  need  you  go,  sir,  if  I  tell 
you — hem  1  I'll  lay  down  my  life  for  the 
truth — hem  !  I'll  tell  you  all,  sir. 

(Detaining  htm.) 

Hard.  I  tell  you,  I  will  not  be  de- 
tained. I  insist  on  seeing.  It's  in  vain 
to  expect  I'll  believe  you. 

Mrs.  Hard  (running  forward  from  &«• 
hind.)  Oh,  lud,  he'll  murder  my  poor 
boy,  my  darling !  Here  good  gentleman, 
whet  your  rage  upon  me.  Take  my  money, 
my  life ;  but  spare  that  young  gentleman, 
spare  my  child,  if  you  have  any  mercy. 

Hard.  My  wife  I  as  I'm  a  Christian 
From  whence  can  she  come,  or  what  does 
she  mean? 

Mrs.  Hard.  (Kneeling.)    Take  com  pas- 

23 


854 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


sion  on  us,  good  Mr.  Highwayman.  Take 
our  money,  our  watches,  all  we  have ;  but 
spare  our  lives.  We  will  never  bring  you 
to  justice;  indeed,  we  won't,  good  Mr. 
Highwayman. 

Hard.  I  believe  the  woman  is  out  of 
her  senses.  What  I  Dorothy,  dont't  you 
know  me? 

Mrs.  Hard.  Mr.  Hardcastle,  as  I'm 
alive !  My  fears  blinded  me.  But  who, 
my  dear,  could  have  expected  to  meet 
you  here,  in  this  frightful  place,  so  far 
from  home.  What  has  brought  you  to 
follow  us? 

Hard.  Sure,  Dorothy,  you  have  not 
lost  your  wits  ?  So  far  from  home,  when 
you  are  within  forty  yards  of  your  own 
door?  (To  him.)  This  is  one  of  your  old 
tricks,  you  graceless  rogue  you.  (To  her.} 
Don't  you  know  the  gate,  and  the  mulber- 
ry-tree? and  don't  you  remember  the 
horse-pond,  my  dear  ? 

Mrs.  Hard.  Yes,  I  shall  remember  the 
horse-pond  as  long  as  I  live:  I  have 
caught  my  death  in  it.  ( To  TONY.)  And 
is  it  to  you,  you  graceless  varlet,  I  owe  all 
this  ?  I'll  teach  you  to  abuse  your  mother, 
I  will. 

Tony.  Ecod,  mother,  all  the  parish  says 
you  have  spoiled  me,  and  so  you  may 
take  the  fruits  on't. 

Mrs.  Hard.  I'll  spoil  you,  I  will.  ( Fol- 
lows him  off  the  stage.  Exit.) 

Hard.  There's  morality,  however,  in 
his  reply.  (Exit.) 

Enter  HASTINGS  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Hast.  My  dear  Constance,  why  will  you 
deliberate  thus  ?  If  we  delay  a  moment, 
all  is  lost  for  ever.  Pluck  up  a  little  re- 
solution, and  we  shall  soon  be  out  of  the 
reach  of  her  malignity. 

Miss  Nev.  I  find  it  impossible.  My 
spirits  are  so  sunk  with  the  agitations  I 
have  suffered,  that  I  am  unable  to  face 
any  new  danger.  Two  or  three  years' 
patience  will  at  last  crown  us  with  hap- 
piness. 

Hast.  Such  tedious  delay  is  worse  than 
inconstancy.  Let  us  fly,  my  charmer. 
Let  us  date  our  happiness  from  this  very 
moment.  Perish  fortune !  Love  and  con- 
tent will  increase  what  we  possess,  beyond 
a  monarch's  revenue.  Let  me  prevail. 

Miss  Nev.  No,  Mr.  Hastings  ;  no.  Pru- 
dence once  more  comes  to  my  relief,  and  I 
will  obey  its  dictates.  In  the  moment  of 
passion,  fortune  may  be  despised ;  but  it 


ever  produces  a  lasting  repentance.  I'm 
resolved  to  apply  to  Mr.  Hardcastle's  com- 
passion and  justice  for  redress. 

Hast.  But  though  he  had  the  will,  he 
has  not  the  power  to  relieve  you. 

Miss  Nev.  But  he  has  influence,  and 
upon  that  I  am  resolved  to  rely. 

Hast.  I  have  no  hopes.  But  since  you 
persist,  I  must  reluctantly  obey  you. 

(Exeunt.) 
Scene  changes. 

Enter  SIR   CHARLES  and  Miss  HARD- 
CASTLE. 

Sir  Charles.  What  a  situation  am  I  in  I 
If  what  you  say  appears,  I  shall  then  find 
a  guilty  son.  If  what  he  says  be  true,  1 
shall  then  lose  one  that,  of  all  others,  I 
wished  for  a  daughter. 

Miss  Hard.  I  am  proud  of  your  appro- 
bation, and  to  show  I  merit  it,  if  you 
place  yourselves  as  I  directed,  you  shall 
hear  his  explicit  declaration.  But  he 
comes. 

Sir  Charles.  I'll  to  your  father,  and 
keep  him  to  the  appointment.  (Exit  SIR 

CHARLES.) 
Enter  MARLOW. 

Marl.  Though  prepared  for  setting  out, 
I  come  once  more  to  take  leave  ;  nor  did 
I,  till  this  moment,  know  the  pain  I  feel 
in  the  separation. 

Miss  Hard.  (In  her  natural  manner.)  I 
believe  these  sufferings  cannot  be  very 
great,  sir,  which  you  can  so  easily  remove. 
A  day  or  two  longer,  perhaps,  might  les- 
sen your  uneasiness,  by  showing  the  little 
value  of  what  you  now  think  proper  to 
regret. 

Marl.  (Aside.)  This  girl  every  moment 
improves  upon  me.  (To  her).  It' must  not 
be,  madam.  I  have  already  trifled  too 
long  with  my  heart.  My  very  pride  beging 
to  submit  to  my  passion.  The  disparity  of 
education  and  fortune,  the  anger  of  a  pa- 
rent, and  the  contempt  of  my  equals,  be- 
gin to  lose  their  weight,  and  nothing  can 
restore  me  to  myself  but  this  painful  effort 
or  resolution. 

Miss  Hard.  Then  go,  sir.  I'll  urge 
nothing  more  to  detain  you.  Though  my 
family  be  as  good  as  hers  you  came  down 
to  visit;  and  my  education,  I  hope,  not 
inferior,  what  are  these  advantages,  with- 
out equal  affluence  ?  I  must  remain  con- 
tented with  the  slight  approbation  of  im- 
puted merit ;  I  must  have  only  the  mock- 
ery of  your  addresses,  while  all  your  seri- 
ous aims  are  fixed  on  fortune. 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


355 


Enter  HARDCASTLE  and  SIR  CHARLE 

from  behind. 

Sir  Charles.    Here  behind  the  screen 

Hard.    Ay,   Ay,   make  no   noise.     I'] 

engage  my  Kate  covers  him  with  confu 

sion  at  last. 

Marl.    By  heaven,  madam,  fortune  wa. 
ever  my  smallest  consideration.      You 
beauty  at  first  caught  my  eye ;  for  wh 
could  see  that  without  emotion?      Bu 
every  moment  that  I   converse  with  you 
steals  in  some  new  grace,  heightens  the 
picture,  and  gives  it  stronger  expression 
What  at  first  seemed  rustic   plainness 
now  appears  refined  simplicity.     Wha 
seemed    forward    assurance,    now  strikes 
me  as  the  result  of  courageous  innocenc 
and  conscious  virtue. 

Sir  Charles.  What  can  it  mean?  He 
amazes  me! 

Hard.  I  told  you  how  it  would  be 
Hush ! 

Marl.  I  am  now  determined  to  stay, 
madam ;  and  I  have  too  good  an  opinion 
of  my  father's  discernment,  when  "he  see; 
you,  to  doubt  his  approbation. 

Miss  Hard.  No,  Mr.  Marlow,  I  will 
not,  cannot  detain  you.  Do  you  think  I 
could  suffer  a  connection  in  which  there 
is  the  smallest  room  for  repentance  ?  Do 
you  think  I  would  take  the  mean  advan- 
tage of  a  transient  passion,  to  load  you 
with  confusion?  Do  you  think  I  could 
ever  relish  that  happiness  which  was  ac- 
quired by  lessening  yours? 

Marl.  By  all  that's  good,  I  can  have 
no  happiness  but  what's  in  your  power  to 
grant  me.  Nor  shall  I  ever  feel  repen- 
tance, but  in  not  having  seen  your  merits 
before.  I  will  stay,  even  contrary  to  your 
wishes ;  and  though  you  should  persist  to 
shun  me,  I  will  make  my  respectful  assi- 
duities atone  for  the  levity  of  my  past 
conduct. 

Miss  Hard.  Sir,  I  must  entreat  you'll 
desist.  As  our  acquaintance  began,  so  let 
it  end,  in  indifference.  I  might  have 
given  an  hour  or  two  to  levity ;  but  seri- 
ously, Mr.  Marlow,  do  you  think  I  could 
ever  submit  to  a  connection  where  /  must 
appear  mercenary,  and  you  imprudent? 
Do  vou  think  I  could  ever  catch  at  the 
confident  addresses  of  a  secure  admirer? 
Marl.  (Kneeling.}  Does  this  look  like 
security  ?  Does  this  look  like  confidence  ? 
No,  madam ;  every  moment  that  shows 
me  your  merit,  only  serves  to  increase  my 


diffidence 
contiuu 


and  confusion.    Here  let  me 


Sir  Charles.  I  can  hold  it  no  longer. 
Charles,  Charles,  how  hast  thou  deceived 
me!  Is  this  your  indifference,  your  unin- 
teresting conversation  ? 

Hard.  Your  cold  contempt ;  your  for- 
mal interview?  What  have  you  to  say 
now? 

Marl.  That  I'm  all  amazement !  What 
can  it  mean  ? 

Hard.  It  means,  that  you  can  say  and 
unsay  things  at  pleasure.  That  you  can 
address  a  lady  in  private,  and  deny  it  in 
public;  that  you  have  one  story  for  us. 
and  another  for  my  daughter. 

Marl.  Daughter! — this  lady  your 
daughter ! 

Hard.  Yes,  sir,  my  only  daughter ;  my 
Kate.  Whose  else  should  she  be  ? 

Marl.     Oh, ! 

Miss  Hard.  Yes,  sir,  that  very  identical 
tall,  squinting  lady  you  were  pleased  to 
take  me  for.  (Curtseying.)  She  that  you 
addressed  as  the  mild,  modest,  sentimen- 
tal man  of  gravity,  and  the  bold,  forward, 
agreeable  Rattle  of  the  ladies'  club ;  ha ! 
!ia!  ha! 

Marl.  Zounds,  there's  no  bearing  this  ; 
.t's  worse  than  death. 

Miss  Hard.  In  which  of  your  charac- 
ters, sir,  will  you  give  us  leave  to  address 
you?  As  the  faltering  gentleman,  with 
ooks  on  the  ground,  that  speaks  just  to 
>e  heard,  and  hates  hypocrisy ;  or  the 
oud  confident  creature,  tnat  keeps  it  up 
with  Mrs.  Mantrap,  and  old  Miss  Biddy 
Buckskin,  till  three  in  the  morning?  ha  1 


la!  ha! 
Marl.     Oh, 


my  noisy  head !    I 


never  attempted  to  be  impudent  yet,  that 
'.  was  not  taken  down.    I  must  be  gone. 

Hard.  By  the  hand  of  my  body,  but 
you  shall  not.  I  see  it  was  all  a  mistake, 
and  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  it.  You  shall 
not,  sir,  I  tell  you.  Won't  you  forgive 
lim,  Kate  ?  We'll  all  forgive  you.  Take 
jourage,  man. 
They  retire,  she  tormenting  him  to  the  back 

scene.) 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE.    TONY. 
Mrs.  Hard.  So,  so,  they're    gone    off. 
*et  them  go,  I  care  not. 
Hard.  Who  gone? 

Mrs-  Hard.  My  dutiful  niece  and  her 
entleman,    Mr.    Hastings,    from    town, 
le  who    came    down    with  our  modest 
isitor~here. 
Sir  Charles.  Who,  my  honest  Georga 


lastings?    As  worthy  a  fellow  as  lives; 


356 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 


and  the  girl  could  not  have  made  a  more 
prudent  choice. 

Hard.  Then  by  the  hand  of  my  body, 
I'm  proud  of  the  connection. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Well,  if  he  has  taken  away 
the  lady,  he  has  not  taken  her  fortune  ; 
that  remains  in  the  family,  to  console  us 
for  her  loss. 

Hard.  Sure,  Dorothy,  you  would  not 
be  so  mercenary. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ay,  that's  my  affair,  not 
yours. 

Hard.  But  you  know,  if  your  son, 
when  of  age,  refuses  to  marry  his  cousin, 
her  whole  fortune  is  then  at  her  own 
disposal. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Ay,  but  he's  not  of  age, 
and  she  has  not  thought  proper  to  wait 
for  his  refusal. 

Enter  HASTINGS  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Mrs.  Hard.  (Aside.)  What!  returned  so 
soon  ?  I  begin  not  to  like  it. 

Hast.  (To  HARDCASTLE.)  For  my  late 
attempt  to  fly  off  with  your  niece,  let  my 
present  confusion  be  my  punishment. 
We  are  now  come  back,  to  appeal  from 
your  justice  to  your  humanity.  By  her 
father's  consent,  I  first  paid  her  my  ad- 
dresses, and  our  passions  were  first 
founded  on  duty. 

Miss  Neo.  Since  his  death,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  stoop  to  dissimulation  to  avoid 
oppression.  In  an  hour  of  levity,  I  was 
ready  even  to  give  up  my  fortune  to  se- 
cure my  choice.  But  I  am  now  recovered 
from  the  delusion,  and  hope,  from  your 
tenderness,  what  is  denied  me  from  a 
nearer  connection. 

Mrs.  Hard.  Pshaw,  pshaw !  this  is  all 
but  the  whining  end  or  a  modern  novel. 

Hard.  Be  it  what  it  will,  I'm  glad 
they're  come  back  to  reclaim  their  due. 
Come  hither,  Tony,  boy.  Do  you  refuse 
this  lady's  hand  whom  I  now  offer  you  ? 

Tony.  What  signifies  my  refusing? 
You  know  I  can't  refuse  her  till  I'm  of 
age,  father. 

Hard.  While  I  thought  concealing 
your  age,  boy,  was  likely  to  conduce  to 
your  improvement,  I  concurred  with  your 
mother's  desire,  to  keep  it  secret.  But 
since  I  find  she  turns  it  to  a  wrong  use, 
I  must  now  declare  you  have  been  of  age 
these  three  months. 

Tony.  Of  age !     Am  I  of  age,  father  ? 

Hard.  Above  three  months. 

Tony.  Then  you'll  see  the  first  use  I'll 


make  of  my  liberty  (Taking  Miss  NE- 
VILLE'S hand) — Witness  all  men  by  these 
presents,  that  I  Anthony  Lumpkin,  Es- 
quire, of  blank  place,  refuse  you,  Constan- 
tia  Neville,  spinster,  of  no  place  at  all,  for 
my  true  and  lawful  wife.  So  Constantia 
Neville  may  marry  whom  she  pleases,  and 
Tony  Lumpkin  is  his  own  man  again. 

Sir  Gliarles.  Oh,  brave  squire ! 

Hast.  My  worthy  friend ! 

Mrs.  Hard.  My  undutiful  offspring ! 

Marl.  Joy,  my  dear  George  ;  I  give  you 
joy  sincerely.  And  could  I  prevail  upon 
my  little  tyrant  here,  to  be  less  arbitrary, 
I  should  be  the  happiest  man  alive,  is 
you  would  return  me  the  favour. 

Hast.  (To  Miss  HARDCASTLE.)  Come, 
madam,  you  are  now  driven  to  the  very 
last  scene  of  all  your  contrivances.  I 
know  you  like  him,  I'm  sure  he  loves 
you,  and  you  must  and  shall  have  him. 

Hard.  (Joining  their  hands.)  And  I  say 
so  too.  And  Mr.  Marlow,  if  she  makes 
as  good  a  wife  as  she  has  a  daughter,  I 
don't  believe  you'll  ever  repent  your 
bargain.  So  now  to  supper.  To-morrow 
we  shall  gather  all  the  poor  of  the  parish 
about  us  ;  and  the  mistakes  of  the  night 
shall  be  crowned  with  a  merry  morning. 
So,  boy,  take  her ;  and  as  you  have  been 
mistaken  in  the  mistress,  my  wish  is,  that 
you  may  never  be  mistaken  in  the  wife. 

END   OP  SHE   STOOPS  TO   CONQUER. 

AN  AWKWARD  COMPLIMENT. 

The  Empress  Marie  Louise  had  never 
been  popular  in  Paris,  as  Josephine  was 
to  the  last,  nor  had  she  the  fine  instincts 
which  so  especially  distinguished  the  first 
consort  of  Napoleon,  who  was,  indeed,  his 
better  angel.  For  example,  one  day 
Napoleon,  having  been  provoked  by  her 
father,  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  declared 
to  Marie  Louise  that  he  was  "  an  old 
ganache"  (blockhead).  Her  majesty 
asked  one  of  her  ladies-in-waiting, — as 
she  said  the  Emperor  had  called  her 
father  by  that  name, — the  meaning  of  the 
word  ganache,  and  the  lady,  not  knowing 
what  to  say  in  reference  to  the  empress's 
own  father,  answered  that  it  meant  "  a 
venerable  old  man."  Marie  Louise  be- 
lieved this ;  and  afterward,  when  Cam- 
baceres  came  to  pay  his  respects  to  her, 
she,  wishing  to  be  very  complimentary  to 
him,  said,  "  Sir,  I  have  always  regarded 
you  as  the  chief  ganache  of  France." 


JIMMY  BUTLER  AND  THE  OWL. 


357 


JIMMY  BUTLER  AND  THE  OWL. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  '46  that  ] 
landed  at  Hamilton,  fresh  as  a  new  pratie 
just  dug  from  the  "  ould  sod,"  and  with  a 
light  heart  and  a  heavy  bundle  I  sot  of 
for  the  township  of  Buford,  tiding  a  taste 
of  a  song,  as  merry  a  young  fellow  as  iver 
took  the  road.  Well,  I  trudged  on  anc 
on,  past  many  a  plisint  place,  pleasin'  my- 
self wid  the  thought  that  some  day 
might  have  a  place  of  my  own,  wid  a 
world  of  chickens  and  ducks  and  pigs 
and  childer  about  the  door ;  and  along  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  sicond  day  I  got  to 
Buford  village.  A  cousin  of  me  mother's, 
one  Dennis  O'Dowd,  lived  about  sivin 
miles  from  there,  and  I  wanted  to  make 
his  place  that  night,  so  I  inquired  the 
way  at  the  tavern,  and  was  lucky  to  find 
a  man  who  was  goin'  part  of  the  way  an' 
would  show  me  the  way  to  find  Dennis. 
Sure  he  was  very  kind  indade,  an'  when 
I  got  out  of  his  wagon  he  pointed  me 
through  the  wood  and  tould  me  to  go 
straight  south  a  mile  an'  a  half,  and  the 
first  house  would  be  Dennis's. 

"  An'  you've  no  time  to  lose  now,"  said 
he,  "  for  the  sun  is  low,  and  mind  you 
don't  get  lost  in  the  woods." 

"  Is  it  lost  now,"  said  I,  "  that  I'll  be 
gittin',  an'  me  uncle  as  great  a  navigator 
as  iver  steered  a  ship  across  the  thrackless 
say  !  Not  a  bit  of  it,  though  I'm  ob- 
leeged  to  ye  for  your  kind  advice,  and 
thank  yez  for  the  ride." 

An'  with  that  he  drove  off  an'  left  me 
alone.  I  shouldered  me  bundle  bravely, 
an'  whistlin'  a  bit  of  tune  for  company 
like,  I  pushed  into  the  bush.  Well,  I 
went  a  long  way  over  bogs,  and  turn  in' 
round  among  the  bush  an'  trees  till  I  be- 
gan to  think  I  must  be  well  nigh  to 
Dennis's.  But,  bad  cess  to  it !  all  of  a 
sudden  I  came  out  of  the  wood  at  the  very 
identical  spot  where  I  started  in,  which  I 
knew  by  an  ould  crotched  tree  that  seem- 
ed to  be  standin'  on  its  head  and  kickin' 
up  its  heels  to  make  divarsion  of  me.  By 
this  time  it  was  growin'  dark,  and  as  there 
was  no  time  to  lose,  I  started  in  a  second 
time,  determined  to  keep  straight  south 
this  time  and  no  mistake.  I  got  on  brave- 
ly for  a  while,  but  och  hone !  och  hone  ! 
it  got  so  dark  I  couldn't  see  the  trees,  and 
I  bumped  me  nose  and  barked  me  shins, 


while  the  miskaties  bit  me  hands  and  face 
to  a  blister;  an'  after  tumblin'  and 
stumblin'  around  till  I  was  fairly  barn- 
foozled,  I  sat  down  on  a  log,  all  of  a 
trimble,  to  think  that  I  was  lost  intirely, 
an'  that  maybe  a  lion  or  some  other  wild 
craythur  would  devour  me  before  morn- 
ing. 

Just  then  I  heard  somebody  a  long  way 
off  say,  "  Whip  poor  Will !  "  "  Bedad," 
sez  I,  "  I'm  glad  that  it  isn't  Jamie  that's 
got  to  take  it,  though  it  seems  it's  more  in 
sorrow  than  in  anger  they  are  doin'  it,  or 
why  should  they  say,  '  poor  Will  ?  '  an' 
sure  they  can't  be  Injin,  haythin,  or 
naygur,  for  it's  plain  English  they:re 
afther  spakin'.  Maybe  they  might  help 
me  out  o'  this,"  so  I  shouted  at  the  top  of 
my  voice,  "  A  lost  man  ! ''  Thin  I  listened. 
Presently  an  answer  came. 

"Who?  Whoo?  Whooo?" 

"  Jamie  Butler,  the  waiver  ! "  sez  I,  as 
loud  as  I  could  roar,  an'  snatchin'  up  me 
bundle  and  stick,  I  started  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  voice.  Whin  I  thought  I  had 
got  near  the  place  I  stopped  and  shouted 
again,  "  A  lost  man  !  " 

"  Who !  Whoo !  Whooo  !  "  said  a  voice 
right  over  my  head. 

"  Sure,"  thinks  I,  "  it's  a  mighty  quare 
place  for  a  man  to  be  at  this  time  of 
night ;  maybe  it's  some  settler  scrapin' 
sugar  off  a  sugar-bush  for  the  children's 
!»-eakfast  in  the  mornin'.  But  where's 
Will  and  the  rest  of  them?"  All  this 
wint  through  me  head  like  a  flash,  an' 
thin  I  answered  his  inquiry. 

"  Jamie  Butler,  the  waiver,"  sez  I ; 
'and  if  it  wouldn't  inconvanience  yer 
lonor,  would  yez  be  kind  enough  to  step 
down  and  show  me  the  way  to  the  house 
of  Dennis  O'Dowd  ?  " 

"  Who !  Whoo  !  Whooo ! "  sez  he. 

"  Dennis  O'Dowd,"  sez  I,  civil  enough, 
'  and  a  dacent  man  he  is,  and  first  cousin 

me  own  mother." 

"Who!  Whoo!  Whooo!"  sez  he 
again. 

"  Me  mother !  "  sez  I,  "  and  as  fine  a 
woman  as  iver  peeled  a  biled  pratie  wid 
icr  thumb  nail,  and  her  maiden  name 
was  Molly  McFiggin." 

"Who!  Whoo!  Whooo!" 

"  Paddy  McFiggin !   bad  luck  to  your 

leaf  ould  head,  Paddy  McFiggin,  I  say — 

lo  ye  hear  that?    An'  he  was  the  tallest 

man  in  all  county  Tipperary,  excipt  Jim 

)oyle,  the  blacksmith." 


868 


UNCLE  DAN'L  AND  THE  STEAMBOAT. 


"Who!  Whoo!  Whooo!" 

"  Jim  Doyle,  the  blacksmith,"  sez  I, 
"ye  good  for  nothin'  blaggard  naygur, 
and  if  yez  don't  come  down  and  show  me 
the  way  this  min't,  I'll  climb  up  there 
and  break  every  bone  in  your  skin,  ye 
spalpeen,  so  sure  as  me  name  is  Jimmy 
Butler  I " 

"Who!  Whoo!  Whooo!"  sez  he,  as 
impident  as  ever. 

I  said  niver  a  word,  but  lavin"  down  me 
bundle,  and  takin'  me  stick  in  me  teeth, 
I  began  to  climb  the  tree.  Whin  I  got 
among  the  branches  I  looked  quietly 
around  till  I  saw  a  parr  of  big  eyes  just 
forninst  me. 

"  Whist,"  sez  I,  "  and  I'll  let  him  have 
a  taste  of  an  Irish  stick,"  and  wid  that  I 
let  drive  and  lost  me  balance  an'  came 
tumblin'  to  the  ground,  nearly  breakin' 
me  neck  wid  the  fall.  Whin  I  came  to 
me  sinsis  I  had  a  very  sore  head  wid  a 
lump  on  it  like  a  goose  egg,  and  half  of 
me  Sunday  coat-tail  torn  off  intirely.  I 
spoke  to  the  chap  in  the  tree,  but  could 
git  niver  an  answer,  at  all,  at  all. 

Sure,  thinks  I,  he  must  have  gone 
home  to  rowl  up  his  head,  for  by  the 
powers  I  didn't  throw  me  stick  for 
nothin'. 

Well,  by  this  time  the  moon  was  up 
and  I  could  see  a  little,  and  I  deter- 
mined to  make  one  more  effort  to  reach 
Dennis's. 

I  wint  on  cautiously  for  a  while,  an' 
thin  I  heard  a  bell.  "  Sure,"  sez  I,  "  I'm 
comin'  to  a  settlement  now,  for  I  hear  the 
church  bell."  I  kept  on  toward  the 
sound  till  I  came  to  an  ould  cow  wid  a 
bell  on.  She  started  to  run,  but  I  was 
too  quick  for  her,  and  got  her  by  the  tail 
and  hung  on,  thinkin'  that  maybe  she 
would  take  me  out  of  the  woods.  On  we 
wint,  like  an  ould  country  steeple-chase, 
till,  sure  enough,  we  came  out  to  a 
clearin'  and  a  house  in  sight  wid  a  light 
in  it.  So,  leaving  the  ould  cow  puffin' 
and  bio  win'  in  a  shed,  I  went  to  the  house, 
and  as  luck  would  have  it,  whose  should 
it  be  but  Dennis's. 

He  gave  me  a  raal  Irish  welcome,  and 
introduced  me  to  his  two  daughters — as 
purty  a  pair  of  girls  as  iver  ye  clapped  an 
eye  on.  But  whin  I  tould  him  my  ad- 
venture in  the  woods,  and  about  the 
fellow  who  made  fun  of  me,  they  all 
laughed  and  roared,  and  Dennis  said  it 
was  an  owl. 


"  An  ould  what?  ''  sez  I. 

"  Why,  an  owl,  a  bird,"  sez  he. 

"Do  you  tell  me  now  ?  "  sez  I.  "  Sure 
it's  a  quare  country  and  a  quare  bird." 

And  thin  they  all  laughed  again,  till  at 
last  I  laughed  myself,  that  hearty  like, 
and  dropped  right  into  a  chair  between 
the  two  purty  girls,  and  the  ould  chap 
winked  at  me  and  roared  again. 

Dennis  is  me  father-in-law  now,  and  he 
often  yet  delights  to  tell  our  children 
about  their  daddy's  adventure  wid  the 
owl. 


UNCLE  DAN'L   AND   THE   STEAM- 
BOAT. 

Whatever  the  lagging,  dragging  journey 
may  have  been  to  the  rest  of  the  emi- 
grants, it  was  a  wonder  and  delight  to 
the  children,  a  world  of  enchantment; 
and  they  believed  it  to  be  peopled  with 
the  mysterious  dwarfs  and  giants  and 
goblins  that  figured  in  the  tales  that  the 
negro  slaves  were  in  the  habit  of  telling 
them  nightly  by  the  shuddering  light  of 
the  kitchen  fire. 

At  the  end  of  nearly  a  week  of  travel, 
the  party  went  into  camp  near  a  shabby 
village  which  was  caving,  house  by  house, 
into  the  hungry  Mississippi.  The  river 
astonished  the  children  beyond  measure. 
Its  mile-breadth  of  water  seemed  an 
ocean  to  them,  in  the  shadowy  twilight, 
and  the  vague  riband  of  trees  on  the  fur- 
ther shore,  the  verge  of  a  continent  which 
surely  none  but  they  had  ever  seen  before. 

"Uncle  Dan'l"  (colored)  aged  forty; 
his  wife,  "Aunt  Jinny,"  aged  thirty; 
"Young  Miss"  Emily  Hawkins,  "Young 
Mars"  Washington  Hawkins  and  "Young 
Mars"  Clay,  the  new  member  of  the 
family,  ranged  themselves  on  a  log,  after 
supper,  and  contemplated  the  marvelous 
river  and  discussed  it.  The  moon  rose 
and  sailed  aloft  through  a  maze  of  shred- 
ded cloud-wreaths ;  the  sombre  river  just 
perceptibly  brightened  under  the  veiled 
light;  a  deep  silence  pervaded  the  air, 
and  was  emphasized  at  intervals,  rather 
than  broken,  by  the  hooting  of  an  owl, 
the  baying  of  a  dog.  or  the  muffled  crash 
of  a  caving  bank  in  the  distance. 

The  little  company  assembled  on  the 
log  were  all  children  (at  least  in  simpli- 
city and  broad  and  comprehensive  igno- 
rance), and  the  remarks  they  made  about 


UNCLE  DAN'L  AND  THE  STEAMBOAT. 


the  river  were  in  keeping  with  their  cha- 
racter ;  and  so  awed  were  they  by  the 
grandeur  and  the  solemnity  of  the  scene 
before  them,  and  by  their  belief  that  the 
air  was  filled  with  invisible  spirits,  and 
that  the  faint  zephyrs  were  caused  by 
their  passing  wings,  that  all  their  talk 
took  to  itself  a  tinge  of  the  supernatural, 
and  their  voices  were  subdued  to  a  low 
and  reverent  tone.  Suddenly  Uncle  Dan'l 
exclaimed : 

"  Chil'en,  dah's  sumfin  a-comin' ! " 

All  crowded  close  together,  and  every 
heart  beat  faster.  Uncle  Dan'l  pointed 
down  the  river  with  his  bony  finger. 

A  deep  coughing  sound  troubled  the 
stillness,  way  toward  a  wooden  cape  that 
jutted  into  the  stream  a  mile  distant. 
All  in  an  instant  a  fierce  eye  of  fire  shot 
out  from  behind  the  cape  and  sent  a  long 
brilliant  pathway  quivering  athwart  the 
dusky  water.  The  coughing  grew  louder 
and  louder,  the  glaring  eye  grew  larger 
and  still  larger,  glared  wilder  and  still 
wilder.  A  huge  shape  developed  itself 
out  of  the  gloom,  and  from  its  tall  du- 
plicate horns  dense  volumes  of  smoke, 
starred  and  spangled  with  sparks,  poured 
out  and  went  tumbling  away  into  farther 
darkness.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  thing 
came,  till  its  long  sides  began  to  glow 
with  spots  of  light  which  mirrored  them- 
selves in  the  river  and  attended  the  mon- 
ster like  a  torchlight  procession. 

"What  is  it?  Oh,  what  is  it,  Uncle 
Dan'l?" 

With  deep  solemnity  the  answer  came : 

"It's  de  Almighty!  Git  down  on  yo' 
knees  /" 

It  was  not  necessary  to  say  it  twice. 
They  were  all  kneeling  in  a  moment. 
And  then,  while  the  mysterious  coughing 
rose  stronger  and  stronger  and  the  threat- 
ening glare  reached  farther  and  wider, 
the  negro's  voice  lifted  up  its  supplications: 

"  O  Lord,  we's  ben  mighty  wicked,  and 
we  knows  dat  we  'zerve  to  go  to  ze  bad 
place,  but  good  Lord,  deah  Lord,  we  ain't 
ready  yit,  we  ain't  ready — let  dese  po' 
chil'en  hab  one  mo'  chance,  jes'  one  mo' 
chance.  Take  de  ole  niggah  if  you's  got 
to  hab  somebody.  Good  Lord,  good  deah 
Lord,  we  don't  know  whah  you's  a  gwine 
to,  we  don't  know  wl  o  you's  got  yo'  eye 
on ;  but  we  knows  by  de  way  you's  a 
comin',  we  knows  by  de  way  you's  a  tiltin' 
along  in  yo'  chariot  o'  fiah,  dat  some  po' 
sinner's  a  gwine  to  ketch  it.  But,  good 


Lord,  dese  chil'en  don't  b'long  heah, 
dey's  f'm  Obedstown,  whah  dey  don't 
know  nuffin,  an'  yo'  knows,  yo'  own  sef, 
dat  dey  ain't  'sponsible.  An'  deah  Lord, 
good  Lord,  it  ain't  like  yo'  mercy,  it  ain't 
like  yo'  pity,  it  ain't  like  yo'  long-sufferin' 
lovin'-kindness  for  to  take  dis  kind  o' 
vantage  o'  sich  little  chil'en  as  dese  is 
when  dey's  so  many  ornery  grown  folks 
chuck  full  o'  cussedness  dat  wants  roastin' 
down  dah.  O  Lord,  spah  de  little  chil'en, 
don't  tar  de  little  chil'en  away  f'm  dey 
frens,  jes'  let  'em  off  jes'  dis  once,  and 
take  it  out  de  ole  niggah.  HEAH  I  is, 
LORD,  HEAH  I  is!  De  ole  niggah's 
ready,  Lord,  de  ole " 

The  flaming  and  churning  steamer  was 
right  abreast  the  party,  not  twenty  steps 
away.  The  awful  thunder  of  a  mud-valve 
suddenly  burst  forth,  drowning  the  pray- 
er, and  as  suddenly  Uncle  Dan!l  snatched 
a  child  under  each  arm  and  scoured  into 
the  woods  with  the  rest  of  the  pack  at 
his  heels.  And  then,  ashamed  of  himself, 
he  halted  in  the  deep  darkness  and 
shouted  (but  rather  feebly) : 

"  Heah  I  is,  Lord,  heah  I  is  1" 

There  was  a  moment  of  throbbing  sus- 
pense, and  then,  to  the  surprise  and  com- 
fort of  the  party,  it  was  plain  that  the 
august  presence  had  gone  by,  for  its 
dreadful  noises  were  receding.  Uncle 
Dan'l  headed  a  cautious  reconnoissance 
in  the  direction  of  the  log.  Sure  enough 
"the  Lord"  was  just  turning  a  point  a 
short  distance  up  the  river,  and  while 
they  looked,  the  light  winked  out,  and 
the  coughing  diminished  by  degrees,  and 
presently  ceased  altogether. 

"H'wsh!  Well,  now  dey's  some  folks 
says  dey  ain't  no  'ficiency  in  prah.  Dis 
chile  would  like  to  know  whah  we'd  a 
been  NOW  if  it  warn't  fo  dat  prah? 
Dat'sit!  Dat'sit!" 

"  Uncle  Dan'l,  do  you  reckon  it  was 
the  prah  that  saved  us  ?" 

"Does  I  RECKON?  Don't  I  know  it! 
Whah  was  yo'  eyes?  Warn't  de  Lord 
jes'  a  comin'  chow  I  chow  f  chow  I  an'  a~ 
goin'  on  tumble — an'  do  de  Lord  carry 
on  dat  way  'dout  dey's  sumfin  don't  suit 
him  ?  An'  warn't  he  lookin  right  at  dia 
gang  heah,  an'  warn't  he  jes'  a  reachin' 
for  'em  ?  An'  d'you  'spec  he  gwine  to  let 
'em  off  'dout  somebody  ast  him  to  do  it  ? 
No  indeedy !" 

"Do  you  reckon  he  saw  us,  Uncl« 
Dan'l  ?" 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  THE  KIDICULOUS. 


"  De  law  sakes,  chile,  didn't  I  see  him 
a-lookin'  at  us  ?" 

"  Did  you  feel  scared,  Uncle  Dan'l  ?" 

"No,  sah!  When  a  man  is  'gaged  in 
prah,  he  ain't  'fraid  o'  nuffin — dey  can't 
nuffin  tetch  him." 

"Well,  what  did  you  run  for?" 

"  Well,  I — I— Mars  Clay;  when  a  man 
is  under  de  influence  ob  de  sperit,  he  do- 
no  what  he's  'bout — no  sah ;  dat  man 
do-no  what  he's  'bout.  You  mout  take 
an'  tah  de  head  off'n  dat  man  an'  he 
wouldn't  scasely  fine  it  out.  Dah's  de 
Hebrew  chil'en  dat  went  frough  de  fiah ; 
dey  was  burnt  considable — ob  coase  dey 
was;  but  dey  didn't  know  nufim  'bout  it 
— heal  right  up  agin ;  if  dey'd  been  gals, 
dey'd  missed  dey  long  haah  (hair,)  maybe, 
but  dey  wouldn't  felt  de  burn." 

"  1  don't  know  but  what  they  were  girls. 
I  think  they  were." 

"  Now,  Mars  Clay,  you  knows  better'n 
that.  Sometimes  a  body  can't  tell  whed 
der  you's  a  sayin'  what  you  means  or 
whedder  you's  a  sayin  what  you  don't 
mean,  'case  you  says  'em  bofe  de  same 
way." 

"  But  how  should  I  know  whether  they 
were  boys  or  girls  ?" 

"  Goodness  sakes,  Mars  Clay,  don't  de 

§ood  book  say?  'Sides,  don't  it  call  'em 
e  .fife-brew  chil'en?  If  dey  was  gals 
wouldn't  dey  be  de  sAe-brew  chil'en? 
Some  people  dat  kin  read  don't  'pear  to 
take  no  notice  when  dey  do  read." 

"  Well,  Uncle  Dan'l,  I  think  that— 
My  !  here  comes  another  one  up  the  river ! 
There  can't  be  two !' 

"  We  gone  di»  time — we  done  gone  dis 
time,  sho ' !  Dey  ain't  two,  Mars  Clay — 
dat's  de  same  one.  De  Lord  kin  'pear 
eberywhah  in  a  second.  Goodness,  now 
de  fiah  an'  de  smoke  do  belch  up  I  Dat 
mean  business,  honey.  He  comin'  now 
like  he  fo'got  eumfin.  Come  'long,  chil'en, 
time  you's  gwine  to  rocs'.  Go  'long  wid 
you — Ole  Uncle  Dan'l  gwine  out  in  de 
woods  to  rastle  in  prah — de  old  niggah 
gwine  to  do  what  ne  kin  to  sabe  you 
agin." 

He  did  go  to  the  woods  and  pray ;  but 
he  went  so  far  that  he  doubted,  him- 
self, if  the  Lord  heard  him  when  He 
wtnt  by. 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  THE  RIDICULOUS 

[Dr.  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES,  of  Mass.,  born  1804 
Practised  as  a  physician  at  Boston  ;  is  Professor  of  \u» 
tomy  at  Harvard  University.] 

I. 

I  wrote  some  lines,  once  on  a  time, 

In  wondrous  merry  mood, 
And  thought,  as  usual,  men  would  say 

They  were  exceeding  good. 

II. 

They  were  so  queer,  so  very  queer, 

I  laughed  as  I  would  die  ; 
Albeit,  in  the  general  way, 

A  sober  man  am  I. 

in. 

I  called  my  servant,  and  he  came ; 

How  kind  it  was  of  him 
To  mind  a  slender  man  like  me— 

He  of  the  mighty  limb  ! 

IV. 

"  These  to  the  printer,"  I  exclaimed, 

And,  in  my  humorous  way. 
I  added  (as  a  trifling  jest), 
"  There'll  be  the  devil  to  pay." 

v. 

He  took  the  paper,  and  I  watched, 

And  saw  him  peep  within  ; 
At  the  first  line  he  read,  his  face 

Was  all  upon  a  grin. 

VI. 

He  read  the  next — the  grin  grew  broad, 

And  shot  from  ear  to  ear ; 
He  read  the  third  ;  a  chuckling  noiae 

I  now  began  to  hear. 

VII. 

The  tourth,  he  broke  into  a  roar ; 

The  fifth,  his  wristband  split ; 
The  sixth,  he  burst  five  buttons  off, 

And  tumbled  in  a  fit 


Ten  days  and  nights,  with  sleeplesi  ejM, 
I  watched  that  wretched  man ; 

And  since,  I  never  dare  to  write 
At  funny  a«  I  can. 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


361 


HOW  MANY  FINS    HAS  A  COD? 

BY  JUDGE  T.  C.  HALIBURTON. 

About  forty  years  ago  I  attended  the 
Western  Circuit  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Nova  Scotia  at  Annapolis,  and  remained 
behind  for  a  few  days  for  the  purpose  of 
examining  that  most  interesting  place, 
which  is  the  scene  of  the  first  effective 
settlement  in  North  America. 

While  engaged  in  these  investigations, 
a  person  called  upon  me  and  told  me  he 
had  ridden  express  from  Plymouth  to  ob- 
tain my  assistance  in  a  cause  which  was 
to  be  tried  in  a  day  or  two  in  the  county 
court  at  that  place.  The  judges  were  at 
that  period  not  professional  men,  but 
magistrates,  and  equally  unable  to  ad- 
minister law  or  to  preserve  order ;  and  the 
verdicts  generally  depended  more  upon 
the  declamatory  powers  of  the  lawyers 
than  on  the  merits  of  the  causes. 

The  distance  was  great — a  journey  had 
to  be  performed  on  horseback — the  roads 
were  Dad,  the  accommodation  worse.  I 
had  a  great  repugnance  to  attend  these 
courts  under  any  circumstances;  and,  be- 
sides, had  pressing  engagements  at  home. 
I  therefore  declined  accepting  his  retainer, 
which  was  the  largest  that  at  that  time 
had  ever  been  tendered  to  me,  and  begged 
to  be  excused.  If  the  fee,  he  said,  was 
too  small  to  render  it  worth  my  while  to 
go,  he  would  cheerfully  double  it,  for 
money  was  no  object.  The  cause  was 
one  of  great  importance  to  his  friend,  Mr. 
John  Barkins,  and  of  deep  interest  to  the 
whole  community ;  and,  as  the  few  law- 
yers that  resided  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  the  place  were  engaged  on  the  other 
side,  if  I  did  not  go,  his  unfortunate  friend 
would  fall  a  victim  to  the  intrigues  and 
injustice  of  his  opponents. 

In  short,  he  was  so  urgent  that  at  last  I 
was  prevailed  upon  to  consent,  and  we  set 
off  together  to  prosecute  our  journey  on 
horseback.  The  agent,  Mr.  William 
Kobins  (who  had  the  most  accurate  and 
capacious  memory  of  any  man  I  ever  met), 
proved  a  most  entertaining  and  agreeable 
companion.  He  had  read  a  great  deal, 
and  retained  it  all;  and,  having  resided 
many  years  near  Plymouth,  knew  every- 
body, every  place  and  every  tradition. 
Withal  he  was  somewhat  of  a  humorist. 
Finding  him  a  person  of  this  description, 


my  curiosity  was  excited  to  know  who  he 
was,  and  I  put  the  question  to  him. 

"  I  am  of  the  same  profession  you  are, 
sir,"  he  said.  I  immediately  reined  up. 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  I  replied,  "  my 
good  friend,  you  must  try  the  cause  your- 
elf.  I  cannot  consent  to  go  on.  The  only 
thing  that  induced  me  to  set  out  with  you 
was  your  assertion  that  every  lawyer  with- 
in a  hundred  miles  of  Plymouth  was  re- 
tained on  the  other  side." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not 
say  I  was  a  lawyer." 

"  No,"  I  observed  "  you  did  not ;  but  you 
stated  that  you  were  of  the  same  profes- 
sion as  myself,  which  is  the  same  thing." 

"  Not  exactly,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  am  a 
wrecker.  I  am  Lloyds'  agent,  and  live  on 
the  misfortunes  of  others ;  so  do  you. 
When  a  vessel  is  wrecked,  it  is  my  busi- 
ness to  get  her  off,  or  to  save  the  property. 
When  a  man  is  entangled  among  the 
shoals  or  quicksands  of  the  law,  your  duty 
is  similar.  We  are  both  wreckers,  and, 
therefore,  members  of  the  same  profession. 
The  only  difference  is,  you  are  a  lawyer, 
and  I  am  not." 

This  absurd  reply  removing  all  difficul- 
ty, we  proceeded  on  our  journey  ;  and  the 
first  night,  after  passing  through  Digby, 
reached  Shingle  Town,  or  Spaitsville. 
The  next  morning  we  reached  Clare,  and 
in  the  afternoon  we  arrived  at  Plymouth. 
As  we  entered  the  village,  I  observed  that 
the  court-house,  as  usual,  was  surrounded 
by  a  noisy  multitude,  some  detached 
groups  of  which  appeared  to  be  discussing 
the  trials  of  the  morning,  or  anticipating 
that  which  was  to  engross  the  attention 
of  the  public  on  the  succeeding  day.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road  was  a  large 
tavern,  the  hospitable  door  of  which  stood 
invitingly  open,  and  permitted  the  escape 
of  most  agreeable  and  seducing  odors  of 
rum  and  tobacco.  The  crowd  occupied 
and  filled  the  space  between  the  two 
buildings,  and  presented  a  moving  and 
agitated  surface ;  and  yet  a  strong  current 
was  perceptible  to  a  practised  eye  in  this 
turbid  mass,  setting  steadily  out  of  the 
court-house,  and  passing  slowly  but  con- 
stantly through  the  centre  of  the  estuary 
into  the  tavern,  and  returning  again  in  an 
eddy  on  either  side. 

Where  every  one  was  talking  at  the 
same  time,  no  individual  could  be  heard 
or  understood  at  a  distance,  but  the  united 
vociferations  of  the  assembled  hundreds 


362 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


blended  together  and  formed  the  deep- 
toned  but  dissonant  voice  of  that  hydra- 
headed  monster,  the  crowd.  On  a  nearer 
approach,  the  sounds  that  composed  this 
unceasing  roar  became  more  distinguish- 
able. The  drunken  man  might  be  heard 
rebuking  the  profane,  and  the  profane 
overwhelming  the  hypocrite  with  oppro- 
brium for  his  cant.  Neighbors,  rendered 
amiable  by  liquor,  embraced  as  brothers, 
and  loudly  proclaimed  their  unchangeable 
friendship;  while  the  memory  of  past 
injuries  awakened  into  fury  by  the  liquid 
poison,  placed  others  in  hostile  attitude, 
who  hurled  defiance  and  abuse  at  each 
other,  to  the  full  extent  of  their  lungs  or 
their  vocabulary.  The  slow,  measured, 
nasal  talk  of  the  degenerate  settler  from 
Puritanical  New  England,  was  rendered 
unintelligible  by  the  ceaseless  and  rapid 
utterance  of  the  French  fisherman  ;  while 
poor  Pat,  bludgeon  in  hand,  uproariously 
solicited  his  neighbors  to  fight  or  to  drink, 
and  generously  gave  them  their  option. 
Even  the  dogs  caught  the  infection  of  the 
place,  and  far  above  their  master's  voices 
might  occasionally  be  heard  the  loud, 
sharp  cry  of  triumph,  or  the  more  shrill 
howl  of  distress  uttered  by  these  animals, 
who,  with  as  little  cause  as  their  senseless 
owners,  had  engaged  in  a  stupid  conflict. 
These  noises  ceased  for  a  moment  as  we 
arrived  at  the  spot,  and  were  superseded 
by  a  command  issued  by  several  persona 
at  the  same  time. 

"  Clear  the  road  there !  Make  way  for 
the  gentlemen ! " 

We  had  been  anxiously  expected  all 
the  afternoon,  and  the  command  was  in- 
stantly obeyed,  and  a  passage  opened  for 
us  by  the  people  falling  back  on  either 
side  of  the  street.  As  we  passed  through, 
my  friend  checked  his  horse  into  a  slow 
walk,  and  led  me  with  an  air  of  triumph, 
such  as  a  jockey  displays  in  bringing  out 
his  favorite  on  the  course.  Robins  was  an 
important  man  that  day.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded in  his  mission.  He  had  got  his 
champion,  and  would  be  ready  for  fight 
in  the  morning.  It  was  but  reasonable, 
therefore,  he  thought,  to  indulge  the  pub- 
lic with  a  glimpse  at  his  man.  He  nodded 
familiarly  to  some,  winked  slyly  to  others, 
saluted  people  at  a  distance  aloud,  and 
shook  hands  patronizingly  with  those  that 
were  nearest.  He  would  occasionally  lag 
behind  a  moment,  and  say  in  an  under, 
but  very  audible,  tone: 


"  Precious  clever  fellow  that !  Sees  it 
all — says  we  are  all  right — sure  to  win  it! 
I  wouldn't  be  in  those  fellows',  the  plain- 
tiffs', skins  to-morrow  for  a  trifle !  He  is  a 
powerful  man  that !  "  and  so  forth. 

The  first  opportunity  that  occurred,  I 
endeavored  to  put  a  stop  to  this  trumpet- 
ing. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,''  I  said,  "  my  good 
friend,  do  not  talk  such  nonsense ;  if  you 
do,  you  will  ruin  me.  I  am  at  all  times  a 
diffident  man,  but  if  you  raise  such  ex- 
pectations, I  shall  assuredly  break  down, 
from  the  very  fear  of  not  fulfilling  them. 
I  know  too  well  the  doubtful  issue  of 
trials  ever  to  say  that  a  man  is  certain  of 
winning.  Pray  do  not  talk  of  me  in  this 
manner." 

"  You  are  sure,  sir,"  he  said.  "  What! 
a  man  who  has  just  landed  from  his 
travels  in  Europe,  and  arrived,  after  a 
journey  of  one  hundred  miles,  from  the 
last  sitting  of  the  Supreme  Court,  not  to 
know  more  than  any  one  else !  Fudge, 
sir  1  I  congratulate  you — you  have  gained 
the  cause !  And  besides,  sir,  do  you  think 
that  if  William  Robins  says  he  has  got  the 
right  man  (and  he  wouldn't  say  so  if  he 
didn't  think  so),  that  that  isn't  enough? 
Why,  sir,  your  leather  breeches  and  top 
boots  are  enough  to  do  the  business !  No- 
body ever  saw  such  things  here  before, 
and  a  man  in  buckskin  must  know  more 
than  a  man  in  homespun.  But  here  is 
Mrs.  Brown's  inn ;  let  us  dismount.  I 
have  procured  a  private  sitting-room  for 
you,  which  on  court-days,  militia-training, 
and  times  of  town  meetings  or  elections, 
is  not  very  easy,  I  assure  you.  Come,  walk 
in,  and  make  yourself  comfortable." 

We  had  scarcely  entered  into  our  snug- 
gery, which  was  evidently  the  landlady's 
own  apartment,  when  the  door  was  softly 
opened  a  few  inches,  and  a  beseeching 
voice  was  heard,  saying : 

"  Billy,  is  that  him  ?  If  it  is,  tell  him 
it's  me,  will  you?  that's  a  good  soul ! " 

"  Come  in — come  in,  old  Blowhard  I " 
said  Robins ;  and,  seizing  the  stranger  by 
the  hand,  he  led  him  up  and  introduced 
him  to  me. 

"Lawyer,  this  is  Captain  John  Bar- 
kins !  Captain  Barkins,  this  is  Lawyer 
Sandford  !  He  is  our  client,  lawyer,  and 
I  must  say  one  thing  for  him :  he  has  but 
two  faults,  but  they  are  enough  to  ruin 
any  man  in  this  province ;  he  is  an  honest 
man,  and  speaks  the  truth.  I  will  leave 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


363 


you  together  now,  and  go  and  order  your 
dinner  for  you." 

John  Barkins  was  a  tall,  corpulent,  am- 
phibious-looking man,  that  seemed  as  if 
he  would  be  equally  at  home  in  either 
element,  land  or  water.  He  held  in  hi* 
hand  what  he  called  a  nor'wester,  a  large, 
broad-brimmed,  glazed  hat,  with  a  peak 
projecting  behind  to  shed  the  water  from 
off  his  club  queue,  which  was  nearly  as 
thick  as  a  hawser.  He  wore  a  long,  nar- 
row-tailed, short-waisted  blue  coat,  with 
large,  white-plated  buttons,  that  resem- 
bled Spanish  dollars,  a  red  waistcoat,  a 
spotted  Bandana  silk  handkerchief  tied 
loosely  about  his  throat,  and  a  pair  of 
voluminous  corduroy  trousers  of  the  color 
of  brown  soap,  over  which  were  drawn  a 
pair  of  fishermen's  boots  that  reached 
nearly  to  his  knees.  His  waistcoat  and 
his  trousers  were  apparently  not  upon  very 
intimate  terms,  for  though  they  traveled 
together,  the  latter  were  taught  to  feel 
their  subjection,  but  when  they  lagged 
too  far  behind,  they  were  brought  to  their 
place  by  a  jerk  of  impatience  that  threat- 
ened their  very  existence.  He  had  a 
thick,  matted  head  of  black  hair,  and  a 
pair  of  whiskers  that  disdained  the  effe- 
minacy of  either  scissors  or  razor,  and 
revelled  in  all  the  exuberant  and  wild 
profusion  of  nature.  His  countenance 
was  much  weather-beaten  from  constant 
exposure  to  the  vicissitudes  of  heat  and 
cold,  but  was  open,  good-natured  and 
manly.  Such  was  my  client.  He  advanc- 
ed and  shook  me  cordially  by  the  hand. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  you 
are  welcome  to  Plymouth.  My  name  is 
John  Barkins ;  I  dare  say  you  have  often 
heard  of  me,  for  everybody  kuows  me 
about  these  parts.  Any  one  will  tell  you 
what  sort  of  man  John  Barkins  is.  That's 
me — that's  my  name,  do  you  see  ?  I  am 
a  persecuted  man,  lawyer;  but  I  ain't 
altogether  quite  run  down  yet,  neither.  I 
have  a  case  in  court;  I  dare  say  Mr. 
Robins  has  told  you  of  it.  He  is  a  very 
clever  man  is  old  Billy,  and  as  smart  a 
chap  of  his  age  as  you  will  see  anywhere 
a'most.  I  suppose  you  have  often  heard 
of  him  before,  for  everybody  knows  Wil- 
liam Robins  in  these  parts.  It's  the  most 
important  case,  sir,  ever  tried  in  this  coun- 
ty. If  I  lose  it,  Plymouth  is  done. 
There's  an  end  to  the  fisheries  and  a  great 
many  of  us  are  a-going  to  sell  off  and  quit 
the  country.'' 


I  will  not  detail  his  cause  to  you  in  his 
own  words,  because  it  will  fatigue  you  as 
it  wearied  me  in  hearing  it.  It  possessed 
no  public  interest  whatever,  though  it  was 
of  some  importance  to  himself  as  regarded 
the  result.  It  appeared  that  he  had  fitted 
out  a  large  vessel  for  the  Labrador  fishery, 
and  taken  with  him  a  very  full  crew,  who 
were  to  share  in  the  profits  or  loss  of  the 
adventure.  The  agreement,  which  was  a 
verbal  one  was,  that  on  the  completion 
of  the  voyage  the  cargo  should  be  sold, 
and  the  net  proceeds  be  distributed  in 
equal  portions,  one-half  to  appertain  to 
the  captain  and  vessel,  and  the  other  half 
to  the  crew,  and  to  be  equally  divided 
among  them. 

The  undertaking  was  a  dangerous  one, 
and  on  their  return  theseamen  repudiated 
the  bargain,  and  sued  him  for  wages.  It 
was,  therefore,  a  very  simple  affair,  being 
a  mere  question  of  fact  as  to  the  partner- 
ship, and  that  depending  wholly  on  the 
evidence.  Having  ascertained  these  .par- 
ticulars, and  inquired  into  the  nature  of 
the  proof  by  which  his  defence  was  to  be 
supported,  and  given  him  his  instructions, 
I  requested  him  to  call  upon  me  again  in 
the  morning  before  Court,  and  bowed  to 
him  in  a  manner  too  significant  to  be  mis- 
understood. He,  however,  still  lingered 
in  the  room,  and  turning  his  hat  round 
and  round  several  times,  examining  the 
rim  very  carefully,  as  if  at  a  loss  to  dis- 
cover the  front  from  the  back  part  of  it, 
he  looked  up  at  last,  and  said  : 

"  Lawyer,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

"What  is  it?"  I  inquired. 

"There  is  a  man/'  he  replied,  "  coming 
agin  me  to-morrow  as  a  witness,  of  the 
name  of  Lillum.  He  thinks  himself  a 

freat  judge  of  the  fisheries,  and  he  does 
now  a  considerable  some,  I  must  say ; 

but  d him !    I  caught  fish  afore  he 

was  born,  and  know  more  about  fishing 
than  all  the  Lillums  of  Plymouth  put  to- 
gether. Will  you  just  ask  him  one  ques- 
tion?" 

"Yes,  fifty,  if  you  like." 
"  Well,  I  only  want  you  to  try  him  with 
one,  and  that  will  choke  him.    Ask  him 
if  he  knows  '  how  many  fins  a  cod  has,  at 
a  word?'" 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  the 
cause  ?  "  I  said  with  unfeigned  astonish- 
ment. 

"Everything,  sir,"  he  answered ;  "every- 
thing in  the  world.  If  he  is  to  come  to 


364 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


give  his  opinion  on  other  men's  business, 
the  best  way  is  to  see  if  he  knows  his  own. 
Tarnation,  man !  he  don't  know  a  cod- 
fish when  he  sees  it ;  if  he  does,  he  can't 
tell  you  '  how  many  fins  it  has  at  a 
word.'  It  is  a  great  catch,  that.  I  have 
won  a  great  many  half  pints  of  brandy  on 
it.  I  never  knew  a  feller  that  could  an- 
swer that  question  yet,  right  off  the  reel." 
,  He  then  explained  to  me  that,  in  the 
enumeration,  one  small  fin  was  always 
omitted  by  those  who  had  not  previously 
made  a  minute  examination. 

"  Now,  sir,"  "  if  he  can't  cipher  out  that 
question  (and  I'll  go  a  hogshead  of  rum  on 
it  he  can't),  turn  him  right  out  of  the  box, 
and  tell  him  to  go  a  voyage  with  old  John 
Barkins — that's  me,  my  name  is  John 
Barkins — and  he  will  larn  him  his  trade. 
Will  you  ask  him  that  question,  law- 
yer?" 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  "  if  you  wish  it." 

"  You  will  gain  the  day,  then,  sir,"  he 
continued,  much  elated ;  "  You  will  gain 
the  day,  then,  as  sure  as  fate.  Good-by, 
lawyer ! " 

When  he  had  nearly  reached  the  foot 
of  the  staircase,  I  heard  him  returning, 
and,  opening  the  door,  he  looked  in  and 
said : 

"  You  won't  forget,  will  you  ? — my  name 
is  John  Barkins ;  ask  anybody  about  here, 
and  they  will  tell  you  who  I  am,  for 
everybody  knows  John  Barkins  in  these 
parts.  The  other  man's  name  is  Lillum 
— a  very  decent,  'sponsible-looking  man, 
too ;  but  he  don't  know  everything.  Take 
him  up  all  short.  '  How  many  fins  has  a 
cod,  at  a  word  ?  '  says  you.  If  you  can 
lay  him  on  the  broad  of  his  back  with 
that  question,  I  don't  care  a  farthing  if  I 
lose  the  case.  It's  a  great  satisfaction  to 
nonplush  a  knowin'  one  that  way.  You 
know  the  question  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  replied  impatiently.  "  I 
know  all  about  it." 

"  You  do,  do  you,  sir?"  said  he,  shutting 
the  door  behind  him,  and  advancing 
towards  me,  and  looking  me  steadily  in 
the  face:  "  you  do,  do  you?  Then  'how 
many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a  word?'  u 

I  answered  as  he  had  instructed  me. 

"Gad,  sir,"  he  said,  ''it's  a  pity  your 
father  hadn't  made  a  fisherman  of  your 
for  you  know  more  about  a  cod  now  than 
any  man  in  Plymouth  but  one,  old  John 
Barkins — that's  me,  my  name  is  John 
Barkins.  Everybody  knows  me  in  these 


parts.  Bait  your  hook  with  that  question, 
and  you'll  catch  old  Lillum,  I  know.  As 
soon  as  he  has  it  in  his  gills,  drag  him 
right  out  of  the  water.  Give  him  no 
time  to  play — in  with  him,  and  whap 
him  on  the  deck ;  hit  him  hard  over  the 
head — it  will  make  him  open  his  mouth, 
and  your  hook  is  ready  for  another 
catch." 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Barkins,"  I  replied ; 
"  call  on  me  in  the  morning.  I  am  fa- 
tigued now." 

"  Good  nightr  sir,"  he  answered  ;  "  you 
won't  forget  ?" 

Dinner  was  now  announced,  and  my 
friend  Mr.  Robins  and  myself  sat  down 
to  it  with  an  excellent  appetite.  Having 
done  ample  justice  to  the  good  cheer  of 
Mrs.  Brown,  we  drew  up  to  the  fire, 
which,  at  that  season  of  the  year,  was 
most  acceptable  in  the  morning  and 
evening,  and  smoked  our  cigars.  Robins 
had  so  many  good  stories,  and  told  them 
so  uncommonly  well,  that  it  was  late  be- 
fore we  retired  to  rest.  Instead  of  being 
shown  into  the  bedroom  |?I  had  tempo- 
rarily occupied  for  changing  my  dress 
before  dinner,  I  was  ushered  into  a  lone, 
low  room,  fitted  up  on  either  side  with 
berths,  with  a  locker  running  round  the 
base,  and  in  all  respects,  except  the  sky- 
light, resembling  a  cabin. 

Strange  as  it  appeared,  it  was  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  place  (a  fishing  port), 
its  population,  and  the  habits  of  the  peo- 
ple. Mrs.  Brown,  the  landlady,  was  the 
widow  of  a  sea-faring  man,  who  had,  no 
doubt,  fitted  up  the  chamber  in  this  man- 
ner with  a  view  to  accommodate  as  many 
"  passengers  "  (as  he  would  designate  his 
guests)  as  possible  in  this  sailor's  home. 
A  lamp  hung  suspended  from  the  ceiling, 
and  appeared  to  be  supplied  and  trimmed 
for  the  night,  so  as  to  afford  easy  access 
and  egress  at  all  hours.  It  was  almost 
impossible  not  to  imagine  one's  self  at 
sea  on  board  of  a  crowded  coasting 
packet.  Retreat  was  impossible,  and 
therefore  I  made  up  my  mind  at  once  to 
submit  to  this  whimsical  arrangement  for 
the  night,  and  having  undressed  myself, 
was  about  to  climb  into  a  vacant  berth, 
near  the  door,  when  some  one  opposite 
called  out : 

" Lawyer,  is  that  you?" 

It  was  my  old  tormenter,  the  skipper. 
Upon  ascertaining  who  it  was,  he  imme- 
diately got  out  of  bed,  and  crossed  over 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


365 


to  where  I  was  standing.  Seizing  me  by 
the  shoulders,  he  clasped  me  tightly 
round  the  neck,  and  whispered — 

"  '  How  many  fins  has  a  cod  at  a  word  ?' 
That's  the  question.  You  wDn't  forget, 
will  you?" 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  not  only  will  not  for- 
get it  to-morrow,  but  I  shall  recollect  you 
and  your  advice  as  long  as  I  live.  Now 
let  me  get  some  rest,  or  I  shall  be  unable 
to  plead  your  cause  for  you,  as  I  am  ex- 
cessively fatigued  and  very  drowsy." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  he  said;  "but 
don't  forget  the  catch.'' 

It  was  some  time  before  the  hard  bed, 
the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  the  no- 
velty of  the  scene  permitted  me  to  com- 
pose myself  for  sleep  ;  and  just  as  I  was 
dropping  off  into  slumber,  I  heard  the 
same  unwelcome  sounds — 

"  Lawyer,  lawyer,  are  you  asleep  ?" 

I  affected  not  to  hear  him,  and  after 
another  ineffectual  attempt  on  his  part  to 
rouse  me  he  desisted;  but  I  heard  him 
mutter  to  himself — 

"  Plague  take  the  sarpent !  he'll  forget 
it  and  lose  all ;  a  feller  that  falls  asleep  at 
the  helm,  ain't  fit  to  be  trusted  nohow." 

*  *  *  In  the  morning  when  I  awoke, 
the  first  objects  that  met  my  eye  were  the 
Bandana  handkerchief,  the  red  waistcoat 
and  blue  coat,  while  a  good-natured  face 
watched  over  me  with  all  the  solicitude  of 
a  parent  for  the  first  moment  of  wakeful- 
ness. 

"  Lawyer,  are  you  awake?"  said  Bar- 
kins.  "  This  is  the  great  day — the  greatest 
day  Plymouth  ever  saw !  We  shall  know 
now  whether  we  are  to  carry  on  the  fish- 
eries, or  give  them  up  to  the  Yankees. 
Everything  depends  upon  that  question  ; 
for  heaven's  sake,  don't  forget  it ! — '  How 
many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a  word?'  It's 
very  late  now.  It  is  eight  o'clock,  and 
the  courts  meet  at  ten,  and  the  town  is 
full.  All  the  folks  from  Chebogue,  and 
Jegoggin,  and  Salmon  River,  and  Beaver 
River,  and  Eel  Brook,  and  Polly  Crosby's 
Hole,  and  The  Gut  and  the  Devil's  Is- 
land, and  Ragged  Island,  and  far  and 
near,  are  come.  It's  a  great  day  and  a 
great  catch.  I  never  lost  a  bet  on  it  yet. 
You  may  win  many  a  half-pint  of  brandy 
on  it,  if  you  won't  forget  it." 

"  Do  go  away  and  let  me  dress  myself !" 
I  said  petulantly.  "  I  won't  forget 
you." 

"Well,  I'll  go  below,"  he  replied,  "if 


you  wish  it ;  but  call  for  me  when  you 
want  me.  My  name  is  John  Barkins  ; 
ask  any  one  for  me,  for  every  man  knows 
John  Barkins  in  these  parts.  But,  dear 
me,''  he  continued,  "  I  forgot !"  and,  tak- 
ing an  enormous  key  out  of  his  pocket, 
he  opened  a  sea-chest,  from  which  he 
drew  a  large  glass  decanter,  highly  gilt, 
and  a  rummer  of  corresponding  dimen- 
sions, with  a  golden  edge.  Taking  the 
bottle  in  one  hand  and  fhe  glass  in  the 
other,  he  drew  the  small  round  gilt  stop- 
per with  his  mouth,  and  pouring  out 
about  half  a  pint  of  the  liquid,  he  said, 
"  Here,  lawyer,  take  a  drop  of  bitters  this 
morning,  just  to  warm  the  stomach  and 
clear  your  throat.  It's  excellent!  It's 
old  Jamaiky  and  sarsyparilly,  and  will  do 
your  heart  good.  It's  an  anti-fogmatic, 
and  will  make  you  as  hungry  as  a  shark, 
and  as  lively  as  a  thrasher !" 

I  shook  my  head  in  silence  and  despair, 
for  I  saw  he  was  a  man  there  was  no  es- 
caping from. 

*'  You  won't,  eh  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  never  take  any- 
thing of  the  kind  in  the  morning." 

"  Where  the  deuce  was  you  broughten 
up,"  he  asked,  with  distended  eyes. 
"  Well,  if  you  won't,  I  will,  then  ;  so  here 
goes,"  and  holding  back  his  head,  the 
potion  vanished  in  an  instant,  and  he 
returned  the  bottle  and  the  glass  to  their 
respective  places. 

After  breakfast,  Mr.  Robins  conducted 
me  to  the  court-house,  which  was  filled 
almost  to  suffocation.  The  panel  was 
immediately  called,  and  the  jury  placed 
in  the  box.  Previous  to  their  being 
sworn,  I  inquired  of  Barkins  whether 
any  of  them  were  related  to  the  plain- 
tiffs, or  had  been  known  to  express  an 
opinion  adverse  to  his  interests;  for  if 
such  was  the  case,  it  was  the  time  to 
challenge  them.  To  my  astonishment, 
he  immediately  rose  and  told  the  judges 
he  challenged  the  whole  jury,  the  bench 
of  magistrates,  and  every  man  in  the 
house — a  defiance  that  was  accompanied 
by  a  menacing  outstretched  arm  and 
clenched  fist.  A  shout  of  laughter  that 
nearly  shook  the  walls  of  the  building 
followed  this  violent  outbreak.  Nothing 
daunted  by  their  ridicule,  however,  he 
returned  to  the  charge,  and  said, 

"  I  repeat  it ;  I  challenge  the  whole  of 
you,  if  you  dare  !  " 

Here  the  Court  interposed,  and  asked 


366 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD  ? 


him  what  he  meant  by  such  indecent  be- 
haviour. 

"  Meant !  "  he  said,  ''  I  mean  what  I 
say.  The  strange  lawyer  here  tells  me 
now  is  my  time  to  challenge,  and  I  claim 
my  right;  I  do  challenge  any  or  all  of 
you!  Pick  out  any  man  present  you 
please,  take  the  smartest  chap  you've  got, 
put  us  both  on  board  the  same  vessel,  and 
I  challenge  him  to  catch,  split,  clean,  salt 
and  stow  away  as  many  fish  in  a  day  as  I 
can — cod,  pollock,  shad,  or  mackerel ;  I 
don't  care  which,  for  it's  all  the  same  to 
me ;  and  I'll  go  a  hogshead  of  rum  on  it 
I  beat  him !  Will  any  man  take  up  the 
challenge?"  and  he  turned  slowly  round 
and  examined  the  whole  crowd.  "  You 
won't,  won't  you  ?  I  guess  not ;  you  know 
a  trick  worth  two  of  that,  I  reckon! 
There,  lawyer,  there  is  my  challenge; 
now  go  on  with  the  cause!  " 

As  soon  as  order  was  restored  the  jury 
was  sworn,  and  the  plaintiffs  counsel 
opened  his  case  and  called  his  witnesses, 
the  last  of  whom  was  Mr.  Lillum. 

''That's  him  !  "  said  Mr.  Barkins,  put- 
ting both  arms  round  my  neck  and  nearly 
choking  me,  as  he  whispered,  "  Ask  him 
'  how  many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a  word  ?  '  " 
I  now  stood  up  to  cross-examine  him, 
when  I  was  again  in  the  skipper's 
clutches.  "Don't  forget!  the  question 
is " 

"  If  you  do  not  sit  down  immediately, 
sir,"  I  said  in  a  loud  and  authoritative 
voice  (for  the  scene  had  become  ludi- 
crous), ''  and  leave  me  to  conduct  the  cause 
my  own  way,  I  shall  retire  from  the 
court ! " 

He  sat  down,  and  groaning  audibly,  put 
both  hands  before  his  face  and  muttered — 

"There  is  no  dependence  on  a  man 
that  sleeps  at  the  helm  !  " 

I  commenced,  however,  in  the  way  my 
poor  client  desired,  for  I  saw  plainly  that 
he  was  more  anxious  of  what  he  called 
stumping  old  Lillum  and  "  non-plushing  " 
him,  than  about  the  result  of  his  trial, 
although  he  was  firmly  convinced  that  the 
one  depended  on  the  other. 

"  How  many  years  have  you  been  en- 
gaged in  the  Labrador  fishery,  sir  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five." 

"  You  are,  of  course,  perfectly  conver- 
sant with  the  cod  fishery  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.  I  know  as  much,  if  not 
more,  about  it  than  any  man  in  Ply- 
mouth." 


Here  Barkins  pulled  my  coat,  and  most 
beseechingly  said : 

"  Ask  him " 

"Be  quiet,  sir,  and  do  not  interrupt 
me!"  was  the  consolatory  reply  he  re- 
ceived. 

"  Of  course,  then,  after  such  long  ex- 
perience, sir,  you  know  a  codfish  when 
you  see  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so  !  " 

"  That  will  not  do,  sir.  Will  you  swear 
that  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  come  here  to  be  made  a  fool 
of! " 

"Nor  I  either,  sir;  I  require  you  ta 
answer  yes  or  no.  Will  you  undertake  to 
swear  that  you  know  a  codfish  when  you 
see  it?" 

"  I  will,  sir." 

Here  Barkins  rose  and  struck  the  table 
with  his  fist  a  blow  that  nearly  split  it, 
and,  turning  to  me,  said : 

"  Ask  him " 

"  Silence,  sir !  "  I  again  vociferated. 
"  Let  there  be  no  mistake."  I  continued. 
"  I  will  repeat  the  question.  Do  you 
undertake  to  swear  that  you  know  a  cod- 
fish when  you  see  it  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir,  as  well  as  I  know  my  own 
name  when  I  see  it  I  M 

"  Then,  sir,  how  many  fins  has  a  cod,  at 
a  word?" 

Here  the  blow  was  given,  not  on  the 
deal  slab  of  the  table,  but  on  my  back, 
with  such  force  as  to  throw  me  forward 
on  my  two  hands. 

"  Ay,  floor  him !  "  said  Barkins ;  "  let 
him  answer  that  question !  The  lawyer 
has  you  there !  How  many  fins  has  a  cod, 
at  a  word,  you  old  sculpin  ?  " 

"  I  can  answer  you  that  without  hesita- 
tion." 

"  How  many,  then  ?  " 

"Let  me  see — three  on  the  back,  and 
two  on  the  shoulder,  that's  five ;  two  on 
the  nape,  that's  seven ;  and  two  on  the 
shoulder,  that's  nine.  Nine,  sir !  " 

"  Missed  it,  by  gosh  !  "  said  Barkins. 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so?  I  knew  he  couldn't 
answer  it.  And  yet  the  fellow  has  the  im- 
pudence to  call  himself  a  fisherman ! " 

Here  I  requested  the  Court  to  interfere, 
and  compel  my  unfortunate  and  excited 
client  to  be  silent. 

"  Is  there  not  a  small  fin  beside,"  I 
said,  "between  the  under  jaw  and  the 
throat  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  is." 


HOW  MANY  FINS  HAS  A  COD? 


•*  You  believe  I  Then,  sir,  it  seems  you 
are  in  doubt,  and  that  you  do  not  know  a 
codfish  when  you  see  it.  You  may  go ;  I 
will  not  ask  you  another  question.  Go, 
sir,  but  let  me  advise  you  to  be  more  care- 
ful in  your  answers  for  the  future." 

There  was  a  universal  shout  of  laughter 
in  the  Court,  and  Barkins  availed  himself 
of  the  momentary  noise  to  slip  his  hand 
under  the  table  and  grip  me  by  the  thigh, 
so  as  nearly  to  sever  tne  flesh  from  the 
bone. 

"  Bless  your  soul,  my  stout  fresh-water 
fish !  "  he  said,  "  you  have  gained  the  case, 
after  all.  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  couldn't 
answer  that  question  ?  It's  a  great  catch, 
isn't  it?" 

The  plaintiffs  had  wholly  failed  in  their 
proof.  Instead  of  contenting  themselves 
with  showing  the  voyage  and  their  ser- 
vices, from  which  the  law  would  have 
presumed  an  assumpsit  to  pay  wages 
according  to  the  ordinary  course  of  busi- 
ness, and  leaving  the  defendant  to  prove 
that  the  agreement  was  a  special  one,  they 
attempted  to  prove  too  much,  by  estab- 
lishing a  negative ;  and,  in  doing  so, 
made  out  a  sufficient  defence  for  Barkins. 
Knowing  how  much  depended  upon  the 
last  address  to  the  jury,  when  the  judge 
was  incompetent  to  direct  or  control  their 
decision,  I  closed  on  the  plaintiffs'  case, 
and  called  no  witnesses.  The  jury  were 
informed  by  the  judge  that,  having  now 
heard  the  case  on  the  part  of  the  plaintiffs 
and  also  on  the  part  of  the  defendants,  it 
was  their  duty  to  make  up  their  minds, 
and  find  a  verdict  for  one  or  the  other. 

After  this  very  able,  intelligible  and  im- 
partial charge,  the  jury  were  conducted 
to  their  room,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
audience  adjourned  to  the  neighboring 
tavern  for  refreshment. 

As  soon  as  it  was  announced  that  the 
jury  had  returned,  the  tumultuous  wave 
of  the  crowd  rushed  into  the  Court-house, 
and  surging  backward  and  forward,  gra- 
dually settled  down  to  a  level  and  tranquil 
surface.  The  panel  was  then  called  over, 
and  the  verdict  read  aloud.  It  waa  for  the 
defendant. 

Barkins  was  not  so  much  elated  as  I 
had  expected.  He  appeared  to  have  been 
prepared  for  any  event.  He  had  had  his 
gratification  already.  "  Old  Lillum  was 
floored,"  the  "  knowing  one  had  been 
non-plushed,"  and  he  was  satisfied.  He 
had  a  duty  to  perform,  however,  which  he 


did  with  great  pleasure,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  with  great  liberality.  The  jury 
were  to  be  "  treated,"  for  it  was  the  cus- 
tom of  those  days  for  the  winning  party 
to  testify  his  gratitude  by  copious  liba- 
tions of  brandy  and  rum.  As  soon  as  the 
verdict  was  recorded,  he  placed  himself 
at  their  head,  and  led  the  way  to  the 
tavern  with  as  much  gravity  and  order  as 
if  he  was  conducting  a  guard  of  honor. 
As  soon  as  they  were  all  in  the  street,  he 
turned  about,  and  walking  backward,  so 
as  to  face  them,  and  at  the  same  time  not 
to  interrupt  their  progress  to  the  mansion 
of  bliss,  he  said — 

"  A  pretty  feller  that  Lillum,  ain't  he  ? 
to  swear  he  knew  what  a  cod  was,  and 
yet  couldn't  tell  how  many  fins  it  had,  at  a 
word!  Who  would  have  thought  that 
milksop  of  a  lawyer  would  have  done  so 
well  ?  He  actually  scared  me  when  I  first 
saw  him  ;  for  a  feller  that  smokes  cigars 
instead  of  a  pipe,  drinks  red  ink  (port 
wine)  instead  of  old  Jamaiky,  and  has  a 
pair  of  hands  as  white  as  a  flat  fish,  ain't 
worth  his  grub,  in  a  general  way.  How- 
sumdever,  it  don't  do  to  hang  a  feller  for 
his  looks,  after  all,  that's  a  fact ;  for  that 
crittur  is  like  a  singed  cat,  better  nor  he 
seems." 

I  did  not  see  him  again  till  the  evening, 
when  he  came  to  congratulate  me  on  hav- 
ing done  the  handsomest  thing,  he  said, 
as  everybody  allowed,  that  ever  was  done 
in  Plymouth, — shown  the  greatest  fisher- 
man in  it  (in  his  own  conceit)  that  he 
didn't  know  a  codfish  when  he  saw  it. 

"  It  was  a  great  catch  that,  lawyer,"  he 
continued,  and  he  raised  me  up  in  hia 
arms  and  walked  round  the  room  with  me 
as  if  he  were  carrying  a  baby.  "  Don't 
forget  it,  '  How  many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a 
word  ? '  You  never  need  to  want  a  half- 
pint  of  brandy  while  you  have  that  fact 
to  bet  on  ! " 

The  next  day  I  left  Plymouth  very 
early  in  the  morning.  When  I  descended 
to  the  door  I  found  both  Robins  and 
Barkins  there,  and  received  a  hearty  and 
cordial  farewell  from  both  of  them.  The 
latter  entreated  me,  if  ever  I  came  that 
way  again,  to  favor  him  with  a  visit,  as 
he  had  some  capital  Jamaica  forty  years 
old,  and  would  be  glad  to  instruct  me  in 
the  habits  of  fish  and  fishermen. 

"  I  will  show  you,"  he  said,  "  how  to 
make  a  shoal  of  mackerel  follow  your 
vessel  like  a  pack  of  dogs.  I  can  tell  you 


S68 


KICKED  BY  A  MULE. 


how  to  make  them  rise  from  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  in  thousands,  when  common 
folks  can't  tell  there  is  one  there,  and 
then  how  to  feed  and  coax  them  away  to 
the  very  spot  you  want  to  take  them.  I 
will  show  you  how  to  spear  shad,  and  how 
to  strike  the  fattest  salmon  that  ever  was, 
so  that  it  will  ke«p  to  go  to  the  East 
Indies  ;  and  I'll  larn  you  how  to  smoke 
herrings  without  dryin'  them  hard,  and 
tell  you  the  wood  and  the  vegetables  that 
give  them  the  best  flavor ;  and  even  them 
cussed,  dry,  good-for-nothing  ale-wives, 
I'll  teach  you  how  to  cure  them  so  you 
will  say  they  are  the  most  delicious  fish 
you  ever  tasted  in  all  your  life.  I  will, 
upon  my  soul !  And  now,  before  you  go, 
I  want  you  to  do  me  a  good  turn,  lawyer. 
Just  take  this  little  silver  flask,  my  friend, 
to  remember  old  John  Barkins  by,  when 
he  is  dead  and  gone,  and  when  people  in 
these  parts  shall  say  when  you  inquire 
after  him,  that  they  don't  know  such  a 
man  as  old  John  Barkins  no  more.  It  is  a 
beautiful  article.  I  found  it  in  the  pocket 
of  a  captain  of  a  Spanish  privateer  that 
boarded  my  vessel,  and  that  I  hit  over  the 
head  with  a  handspike,  so  hard  that  he 
never  knew  what  hurt  him.  It  will  just 
suit  you,  for  it  only  holds  a  thimble-full, 
and  was  made  o'  purpose  for  fresh-water 
fish,  like  Spaniards  and  lawyers.  Good- 
bye !  God  bless  you,  sir  !  A  fair  wind  and 
a  short  passage  to  you  1 " 

I  had  hardly  left  the  door,  before  I 
heard  my  name  shouted  after  me. 

"  Mr.  Sandford  ! — lawyer  !  lawyer  I " 

It  was  old  Barkins.  I  anticipated  his 
object :  I  knew  it  was  his  old  theme — 

"  Lawyer,  don't  forget  the  catch,  '  How 
many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a  word  ? '  " 


KICKED  BY  A  MULE. 

JAKE  JOHNSON  had  a  mule.  He  (the 
animal)  could  kick  higher,  hit  harder  on 
the  slightest  provocation,  and  act  iiglier 
than  any  other  mule  known  on  record. 

One  morning,  riding  his  property  to 
market,  Jake  met  Jim  Boggs,  against 
whom  he  had  an  old  but  concealed  grudge. 
He  knew  Boggs's  weakness  lay  in  brag- 
ging and  betting;  therefore  he  saluted 
him  accordingly — 

"  How  are  you,  Jim  ?    Fine  morning." 

"  Hearty,  squire,"  replied  Jim.    "  Fine 


weather.  Nice  mule  that  you  air  riding 
on.  Will  he  do  to  bet  on  ?  " 

"  Bet  on  ?  Guess  he  will  do  that.  I 
tell  you,  Jim  Boggs,  he's  the  best  mule  in 
this  country." 

"  Great  smash  I  is  that  so  ?  "  ejaculated 
Jim. 

"  Solid  truth,  every  word  of  it.  Tell 
you  confidentially,  Jim,  I  am  taking  him 
down  for  betting  purposes.  I  bet  he  can 
kick  a  fly  off  from  any  man  without  its 
hurting  him." 

"  Now  look  here,  squire,"  said  Jim,  "  I 
am  not  a  betting  character,  but  I'll  bet 
you  something  on  that  myself." 

"Jim,  there's  no  use — don't  bet.  I 
don't  want  to  win  your  money." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  squire.  I'll  take 
such  bets  as  them  every  time." 

"  Well,  if  you  are  determined  to  bet,  I 
will  risk  a  small  stake  —say  five  dollars.'1 

"  All  right,  squire,  you're  my  man.  But 
who'll  he  kick  the  fly  off?  There  is  no 
one  here  but  you  and  I.  You  try  it." 

"  No,"  says  Johnson,  "  I  have  to  be  by 
the  mule's  head  and  to  order  him." 

"  Oh,  yaas,"  says  Jim.  "  Then  probably 
I'm  the  man.  Wa'll,  I'll  do  it;  but  you 
are  to  bet  ten  against  my  five  if  I  risk  it." 

"All  right,"  quoth  the  squire.  "Now, 
there's  a  fly  on  your  shoulder.  Stand 
still."  And  Johnson  adjusted  the  mule. 

"  Whist,  Jervey !  "  said  he. 

The  mule  raised  his  heels  with  such 
velocity  and  force  that  Boggs  rose  in  the 
air  like  a  bird,  and  alighted  on  all-fours  in 
a  muddy  ditch,  bang  up  against  a  rail  fence. 

Rising  in  a  towering  passion,  he  ex- 
claimed— 

"Yaas,  that  is  smart!  I  knew  your 
darned  mule  couldn't  do  it.  You  had  all 
that  put  up.  I  wouldn't  be  kicked  like 
that  for  fifty  dollars.  You  can  just  fork 
over  them  ere  stakes  for  it,  any  way." 

"  Not  so  fast,  Jim.  Jervey  did  just  what 
I  said  he  would  ;  that  is,  kick  a  fly  off  a 
man  without  its  hurting  him.  You  see  the 
mule  is  not  hurt  by  the  operation.  How- 
ever, if  you  are  not  satisfied,  we  will  try 
it  again  as  often  as  you  wish." 

"The  deuce  take  you,"  growled  Jim. 
"I'd  rather  have  a  barn  fall  on  me  at 
once  than  have  that  critter  kick  me 
again.  Keep  the  stakes,  but  don't  say 
anything  about  it." 

And  Boggs  trudged  on  in  bitterness  of 
soul,  murmuring  to  himself — 

"  Sold— and  kicked  by  a  mule  1 " 


PAUL  PRY. 


i>AUL   PRY. 

PAUL  PHY. — This  very  admirable  Comedy 
is  by  John  Poole,  and  was  first  played  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre,  London.  The  author 
has  stated,  that  the  character  of  Paul  Pry 
was  suggested  by  an  anecdote  related  to  him 
several  years  previous  to  the  production  of 
the  piece.  An  old  lady,  living  in  a  narrow 
street,  had  passed  so  much  of  her  time  in 
watching  the  affairs  of  her  neighbours,  that 
she  acquired  the  power  of  distinguishing  the 
sound  of  every  knocker  within  hearing ; — she 
fell  ill,  and  was  confined  to  her  bed.  Unable 
to  observe  in  person,  what  was  going  on  with- 
out, she  stationed  her  maid  at  the  window 
as  a  substitute,  for  the  performance  of  that 
duty. 

"Betty,  what  ARE  you  thinking  about? 
Don't  you  hear  a  double  knock  at  No.  9? 
Who  is  it?"  "  The  first  floor  lodger,  Ma'am." 

"  Betty  !  Betty  !  I  declare  I  must  give  you 
warning.  Why  don't  you  tell  me,  what  that 
knock  is  at  No.  54?" 

"Why,  Lord!  Ma'am!  it  is  only  the  baker 
with  pies. 

"  PIES.  Betty  !  what  can  they  want  with 
pies  at  54  ?  They  had  pies  yesterday.' ' 

Of  this  very  point  the  author  has  availed 
himself.  Paul  Pry,  however,  was  never  in- 
tended as  the  representative  of  any  one  indi- 
vidual, but  of  a  class — like  the  melancholy  of 
Jaques,  he  is  "compounded  of  many  SIM- 
PLES." That  it  should  have  been  so  often, 
and  so  erroneously,  supposed  to  have  been 
drawn  after  some  particular  person,  is,  per- 
haps, complimentary  to  the  general  truth  of 
the  delineation. 

The  Comedy  is  original  in  plot,  character, 
and  dialogue.  The  only  imitation  is  to  be 
found  in  that  part  in  which  Mrs.  Subtle  is 
engaged,  which  reminds  one  of  the  LE  VIEUX 
CELIBATAIRE  ;  but  even  the  little  adopted  is 
considerably  altered  and  modified,  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  adapting  it  to  the  exigencies  of  a 
different  plot. 

The  circumstances  attending  the  first  per- 
formance  of  Paul   Pry  are   singular.      Mr.  j 
Farren    refused    to    play    the  character    of ; 
Colonel  Hardy,  alleging  it  was  a  secondary  j 
part — and  Mr.  Listen  objected  to  Paul  Pry  ' 
on  the  plea  that  the  character  was  a  mere 
excrescence  on  the  main  plot.     Actors  are  not 
always  the  best  judges  in  these  matters ; — 
Mr.   Listen  realized  a  large  portion  of  the 
splendid  fortune  upon  which  he  retired  from 
the  stage,  from  his  great  success  in  Paul  Pry  ; 
— and   the  performance  of  the  character  of 
Colonel  Hardy  has  added  to  the  reputation 

VOL   II  — W.  H- 


of  many  of  our  sterling  Comedians. — At  th» 

last  rehearsal  of  the  Com«dy,  Mr.  Listen  was 

imperfect,  in  his  part,  and  undecided  as  to  its 

costume;   while  on   th«  stage   in  a  state  of 

I  fidgety  uncertainty  and   doubt,  a   workman 

i  from   a   neighboui-ing   manufactory    entered, 

j  wearing   a   large   pair  of  Cossack   trowsers, 

i  which,  it  being  a  wet  day,  he  had  tucked 

j  into  his   Wellington  boots.     Mr.  Listen  im- 

j  mediately  adopted  the  idea,  and   hence  the 

;  origin  of  the  rather  singular  dress  in  which 

!  Paul  Pry  generally  appears. 

The  Comedy  is   a  favourite  stock  piece  in 

•  all  our  Theatres.     Mr.    Burtor*,   the  second 

i  comedian  who  played  the  part  in  England, 

added  to  his  popularity  in  this  country,  by 

his    almost  inimitable    performance  of  Paul 

Pry. 

ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — A  village  inn. 

DOUBLEDOT  and  SIMON  discovered, 
drinking. 

Simon.  Well,  really,  I  must  go,  Mr. 
Doubledot;  it  will  be  a  busy  day  at 
our  house.  Master  expects  company  to 
dinner. 

Doub.  Come,  we  must  finish  the  mug : 
and  when  is  Miss  Eliza's  wedding  to  take 
place  ? 

Simon.  Can't  say  :  my  master,  Colonel 
Hardy,  never  lets  anyone  into  his  se- 
crets. 

Doub.  Well,  Miss  Eliza's  a  nice  young 
lady. 

Simon.  Aye ;  that  she  is,  but  she  is  a 
sly  one :  she  looks  as  if  butter  wouldn't 
melt  in  her  mouth ;  but  she's  a  sly  one,  I 
tell  you. 

Doub.  What  makes  you  think  that, 
Simon? 

Simon.  I  don't  mean  any  harm  of  her, 
for  she's  as  kind  a  soul,  bless  her,  as  ever 
lived ;  but,  by  putting  this  and  that  to- 

f  ether,  you  know,  we  in  the  kitchen  often 
now  what  is  going  on  in  the  parlour 
better  than  the  parlour  folks  themselves. 
She's  in  love. 

Doub.  That's  natural  enough,  since  she's 
going  to  be  married, 

Simon.  But  as  she  never  saw  the  man 
she  is  to  marry — 

Doub.  Sensibly  argued;  with  whom, 
then? 

Simon.  We  can't  make  that  out.  You 
know  what  a  strict  hand  the  Colonel  is — 
passionate — severe — no  one  in  his  house 

24 


370 


PAUL  PRY. 


dare  say  their  soul  is  their  own ;  so  that, 
if  our  young  lady  were  in  love  with 
twenty  men,  she  would  never  dare  tell 
her  father  of  it.  No,  no,  my  master  is 
not  like  his  neighbour,  old  Mr.  Wither- 
ton,  who  is  led  oy  the  nose  by  a  steward 
and  a  housekeeper. 

Doub.  Ah !  poor  old  gentleman  ;  but 
don't  you  think  your  young  lady's  maid, 
Mrs.  Phebe,  is  in  the  secret? 

Simon.  May  be,  but  she's  as  close- 
tongued  as  her  mistress;  besides,  she 
never  mixes  with  us.  Mrs.  Phebe's  a 
devilish  nice  girl,  Doubledot;  here's  wish- 
ing her  a  good  husband,  and  she  may 
have  me  for  asking.  Well,  I  must  go, 
else  I  shall  get  chattering  of  the  affairs  of 
the  family — a  thing  I  never  do.  [  Comes 
forward.]  Ha !  here  comes  Mr.  Paul  Pry. 

Doub.  Plague  take  Mr.  Paul  Pry  !  He 
is  one  of  those  idle,  meddling  fellows,  who, 
having  no  employment  themselves,  are 
perpetually  interfering  in  other  people's 
affairs. 

Simon.  Aye,  and  he's  inquisitive  into 
all  matters  great  or  small. 

Doub.  Inquisitive!  why,  he  makes  no 
scruple  to  question  you  respecting  your 
most  private  concerns.  Then  he  will 
weary  you  to  death  with  a  long  story 
about  a  cramp  in  his  leg,  or  the  loss  of  a 
sleeve  button,  or  some  such  idle  matter, 
and  so  he  passes  his  days,  "  dropping  in," 
as  he  calls  it,  from  house  to  house  at  the 
most  unreasonable  times,  to  the  annoy- 
ance of  every  family  in  the  village.  But 
I'll  soon  get  rid  of  him.  [Simon  goes  up. 

Enter  PRY. 

Pry.  Ha !  how  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Doubledot? 

Doub.  Very  busy,  Mr.  Pry,  and  have 
scarcely  time  to  say  "pretty  well,''  thank 
ye.  [Retires  up,  and  Simon  advances. 

Pry.  Ha  1  Simon !  you  here  ?  Bather 
early  in  the  morning  to  be  in  a  public 
house — sent  here  with  a  message  from 
your  master,  perhaps.  I  say,  Simon,  when 
this  wedding  takes  place,  I  suppose  your 
master  will  put  you  all  into  new  liveries, 
eh? 

Simon.  Can't  say,  sir. 

Pry.  Well,  I  think  he  might.  \Looks 
at  Simon's  sleeve.}  Between  ourselves, 
Simon,  it  won't  be  before  you  want  'em, 
eh? 

Simon.  That's  master's  business,  sir,  and 
neither  yours  nor  mine. 

Pry.  Mr.  Simon,  behave  yourself,  or  I 


shall  complain  of  you  to  the  Colonel. 
Apropos,  Simon,  that's  an  uncommon  fine 
leg  of  mutton  the  butcher  has  just  sent  to 
your  house.  It  weighs  thirteen  pounds 
five  ounces. 

Doub.  And  how  do  you  know  that  ? 

Pry.  I  asked  the  butcher.  I  say,  Si- 
mon, is  it  for  roasting  or  boiling? 

Simon.  Half  and  half,  with  the  chill 
taken  off.  There's  your  answer. 

|  Exit  Simon. 

Pry.  That's  an  uncommon  ill-behaved 
servant.  Well,  since  you  say  you  are 
busy,  I  won't  interrupt  you ;  only  as  I 
was  passing,  I  thought  I  might  as  well 
drop  in. 

Doub.  Then  now  you  may  drop  out 
again.  The  London  coach  will  be  in  pre- 
sently, and— 

Pry.  No  passengers  by  it  to-day,  for  I 
have  been  to  the  hill  to  look  for  it. 

Doub.  Did  you  expect  any  one  by  it, 
that  you  were  so  anxious? 

Pry.  No,  but  I  make  it  my  business  to 
see  the  coach  come  in  every  day ;  I  can't 
bear  to  be  idle. 

Doub.  Useful  occupation,  truly. 

Pry.  Always  see  it  go  out ;  have  done 
these  ten  years. 

Doub.  [Going  up.]  Tiresome  block- 
head !  well,  good  morning  to  you. 

Pry.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Doubledot, 
you  don't  appear  to  be  very  full  here. 

Doub.  No.  no. 

Pry.  Hal  you  are  at  a  heavy  rent. 
[Pauses  for  an  answer  after  each  question.] 
I've  often  thought  of  that.  No  support- 
ing such  an  establishment  without  a  deal 
of  custom ;  if  it's  not  an  impertinent  ques- 
tion, don't  you  find  it  rather  a  hard  mat- 
ter to  make  both  ends  meet  when  Christ- 
mas comes? 

Doub.  If  it  isn't  asking  an  impertinent 
question,  what's  that  to  you  ? 

Pry.  Oh,  nothing,  only  some  folks  have 
the  luck  of  it ;  they  havejust  taken  in  a 
nobleman's  family  at  the  Green  Dragon. 

Doub.  What's  that!  A  noble  at  the 
Green  Dragon  ? 

Pry.  Travelling  carriage  and  four. 
Three  servants  on  the  dickey  and  an  out- 
rider, all  in  blue  liveries.  They  dine  and 
stop  all  night ;  a  pretty  bill  there  will  be 
to-morrow,  for  the  servants  are  not  on 
board  wages. 

Doub.  Plague  take  the  Green  Dragon. 
How  did  you  discover  that  they  are  not 
on  board  wages? 


PAUL  PRY. 


371 


Pry.  I  was  curious  to  know,  and  asked 
one  of  them.  You  know  I  never  miss 
anything  for  want  of  asking,  'tis  no  fault 
of  mine  the  nabob  is  not  here. 

Doub.  Why,  what  had  you  to  do  with  it  ? 

Pry.  You  know  I  never  forget  my 
friends.  I  stopt  the  carriage  as  it  was 
coming  down  the  hill — stopt  it  dead,  and 
said  that  his  lordship — I  took  him  for  a 
lord  at  first — that,  if  his  lordship  intended 
to  make  any  stay,  he  couldn't  do  better 
than  go  to  Doubledot's. 

Doub.  Well! 

Pry.  Well,  would  you  believe  it? — out 
pops  a  saffron  coloured  face  from  the  car- 
riage window  and  says,  you're  an  impu- 
dent rascal  for  stopping  my  carriage,  and 
I'll  not  go  there  if  another  inn  is  to  be 
found  within  ten  miles  of  it. 

Doub.  There !  that  comes  of  your  con- 
founded meddling.  If  you  had  not  inter- 
fered, I  should  have  stood  an  equal  chance 
with  the  Green  Dragon. 

Pry.  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  did  it  for 
the  best. 

Doub.  Did  it  for  the  best,  indeed! 
Deuce  take  you.  By  your  officious  at- 
tempts to  serve,  you  do  more  mischief  in 
the  neighbourhood,  than  the  exciseman, 
the  apothecary,  and  the  attorney  alto- 
gether. 

Pry.  Well,  there's  gratitude.  Now, 
really  I  must  go — good  morning. 

[Exit  Paul  Pry. 

Doub.  I've  got  rid  of  him  at  last,  thank 
heaven.  [Pry  re-enters].  Well,  what  now ? 

Pry.  I've  dropt  one  of  my  gloves.  Nay, 
that's  very  odd :  here  it  is  in  my  hand  all 
the  time. 

Doub.  Go  to  the  devil !  [Exit. 

Pry.  Come,  that's  civil,  [looking  out]. 
Eh !  there's  the  Postman !  I  wonder 
whether  the  Parkins's  have  got  letters 
again  to-day?  They  have  had  letters 
every  day  this  week,  and  I  can't  for  the 
life  of  me  think  what  they  can — [feels 
hastily  in  his  pocket].  Apropos — talking  of 
letters,  here's  one  I  took  from  him  last 
week,  for  the  Colonel's  daughter,  Miss 
Eliza,  and  I  have  always  forgotten  to  give 
it  to  her ;  I  dare  say  it  is  not  of  much  im- 
portance, [peeps  into  it],  "Likely  unex- 
pected affectionate.' '  I  can't  make  it  out. 
No  matter,  I'll  contrive  to  take  it  to  the 
house.  By  the  bye,  tho,'  I  have  a  deal  to 
do  to-day,  buy  an  ounce  of  snuff,  fetch  my 
umbrella,  which  I  left  to  be  mended,  drop 
in  at  old  Mr.  Witherton's,  and  ask  him 


how  his  tooth  is.  I  have  often  thou^l.i, 
that  if  that  tooth  was  mine,  I'd  have  it 
out.  [Exit. 

SCENE  II. — A  Chamber  at  WITHERTON'S. 
Enter  Mrs.  SUBTLE  and  GRASP. 

Mrs.  S.  Don't  threaten  me,  Mr.  Grasp, 
for  you  know  you  are  at  least  as  much  in 
my  power  as  I  am  in  your's,  and  that  the 
exposure  of  either  of  us  must  be  fatal  to 
both. 

Grasp.  Well,  well,  Mrs.  Subtle,  you 
must  allow  for  the  warmth  of  my  temper. 

Mrs.  S.  Your  temper  will  one  day  bring 
down  ruin  upon  us.  We  have  sufficient 
control  over  Mr.  Witherton  to  serve  our 
own  purpose:  but  by  making  him  feel 
his  subjection,  by  drawing  the  cord  too 
tight,  as  you  do,  you  run  the  risk  of  excit- 
ing his  suspicions,  and  rousing  him  to  re- 
bellion. 

Grasp.  Never  fear;  we  have  the  Old 
Baby  in  leading  strings,  and  may  do  with 
him  just  what  we  please. 

Mrs.  S.  We  might,  whilst  we  remained 
at  his  own  place,  in  Wiltshire,  away  from 
all  the  world ;  but,  since  his  old  friend, 
Colonel  Hardy,  has  induced  him  to  pass  a 
few  months  here,  near  him,  a  new  influ- 
ence has  arisen. 

Grasp.  And  for  that  reason  we  must  be 
more  rigid  in  the  maintenance  of  our 
own.  Then  there's  that  young  fellow, 
Willis,  whom  the  Colonel  has  contrived 
to  foist  into  his  family  :  but  Til  soon  get 
rid  of  him. 

Mrs.  S.  It  is  not  Willis  I  fear ;  but  the 
girl,  Marian.  When  we  were  at  home  no 
one  presumed  to  interfere  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  household — that  was  our 

province  ;  but  here, however,  I  have 

taken  a  dislike  to  that  girl,  and  she  shall 
quit  the  house,  displease  whomsoever  it 
may. 

Grasp.  Indeed!  it  would  displease  me 
for  one,  and  she  shall  remain. 

Mrs.  S.  Shall !  another  such  a  word, 
Mr.  Grasp  and 

Grasp.  So  now,  Mrs.  Subtle,  you  would 
threaten  me.  Who  was  the  inventor  of 
all  the  calumnies  which  have  forever  poi- 
soned the  mind  of  Mr.  Witherton  against 
his  nephew,  poor  young  Somers?  By 
whose  arts  have  they  been  prevented 
meeting  each  other  ?  Who  falsified  some 
of  the  poor  lad's  letters  ?  intercepted  and 
suppressed  others  ?  impugned  the  charac- 
ter of  the  woman  he  chose  for  his  wife? 


372 


PAUL  PRY. 


Mrs.  S.  Who  was  it  that,  employed  to 
forward  the  letters  written  to  him  by  his 
uncle,  destroyed  them  ?  who  for  these 
three  years  have  robbed,  pillaged,  plun- 
dered ?— 

Grasp.  Both  you  and  I.  So,  there,  we 
are  even.  Harkee,  Mrs.  Subtle,  we  have 
neither  of  us  anything  to  gain  by  quarrel- 
ling. Give  me  vour  hand — there ! 

Mrs.  S.  [aside].    The  hateful  wretch  ! 

Grasp.  And  now  turn  to  a  pleasanter 
subject. 

Mrs.  S.  What  subject? 

Grasp.  One  upon  which  I  have  been 
constant  these  five  years — love.  It  re- 
lieves my  heart,  after  any  little  misunder- 
standing between  us,  to  say  a  tender  word 
to  you. 

Mrs.  S.  Eeally,  Mr.  Grasp,  your  gallan- 
try— 

Grasp.  I  was  never  wanting  in  gallan- 
try towards  the  fair  sex — so,  once  for  all, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Subtle,  you  and  I  are  so 
confoundedly  in  dread  of  each  other,  the 
sooner  we  marry,  and  make  our  interests 
one,  the  better. 

Mrs.  S.  [aside].  I'd  sooner  die.  But  you 
are  so  impatient. 

Grasp.  Pooh,  pooh,  you  have  been  shil- 
lyshallying these  five  years,  and  it  is  time 
you  should  make  up  your  mind  that  we 
unite  our  interests,  play  the  same  game, 
and  have  the  old  fellow  more  completely 
in  our  power;  besides,  there  is  no  real 
pleasure  in  a  single  life.  Look  at  our 
master,  or  rather  our  slave.  He  is  an  old 
bachelor,  and  with  all  his  fortune,  he  is  an 
unhappy  man. 

Mrs.  S.  [sighs] .  True.  But  I  have  once 
already  been  married,  and— 

Grasp.  Aye,  but  that  was  a  marriage 
contracted  contrary  to  your  inclinations. 
Our  cause  is  different.  You'll  find  me  a 
tender,  indulgent  husband :  so  I'll  allow 
you  till  to-morrow  to  consider  of  my  pro- 
posal, and  then  if  you  don't,  hang  me  but 
I'll  expose — But  here  comes  the  Baby, 
and  Colonel  Hardy,  and  that  eternal  Wil- 
lis, along  with  him.  Remember,  my  dar- 
ling Mrs.  Subtle  [Shakes  her  hand],  to- 
morrow you  consent  to  our  making  each 
other  happy  for  life — or  I'll  trounce 
you.  [Exit. 

Mrs.  S.  I  am  indeed  in  his  power ;  for 
in  one  moment  could  he  destroy  the  fruits 
of  ten  long  years  of  labour.  To-morrow  ! 
— then  I  must  bring  Witherton  to  a  de- 
cision to-day.  My  control  over  his  affec- 


tions is,  I  think — nay,  I  am  sure — it  ie 
entire.  The  result  cannot  but  be  favour- 
able, and  once  mistress  here,  I'll  turn  you 
to  the  dogs.  [Retires. 

Enter  WITHERTON,  HARDY  and  WILLIS. 
WILLIS  seats  himself- —  Who  comes  down. 

Hardy.  You'll  consider  of  it. — What  do 
you  mean  by  considering  of  it?  What  is 
there  to  consider  ?  Can't  you  say  at  once 
whether  you  will  dine  with  me  or  not? 

With.  Not  so  loud,  my  dear  friend — 
you  agitate  me. 

Hardy.  Then  why  the  devil  don't  you 
make  up  your  mind?  I  hate  the  man 
who  doesn't  make  up  his  mind. — Do  as  I 
do — always  make  up  your  mind,  right  or 
wrong. 

With.  Well,  well. 

Hardy.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Subtle,  your 
housekeeper,  won't  give  you  leave.  I  say 
Mrs.  Subtle  [To  Mrs.  /S.],  is  it  you  who 
refuse  your  master  leave  to  dine  with  me 
to-day  ? 

Mrs.  S.  I,  sir !  Mr.  Witherton  is  per- 
fectly at  liberty  to  do  as  he  pleases. 

Hardy.  There !  you  are  at  liberty  to  do 
as  you  please;  and  so  you  ought  to  be.  I 
shall  expect  you,  then.  You  have  but  to 
cross  the  garden  to  my  house ;  so  the  walk 
won't  fatigue  you.  You'll  meet  a  friend 
or  two — shan't  tell  you  who,  till  you  come 
— never  do ;  and  I  shall  have  something 
to  say  to  you,  relative  to  my  daughter 
Eliza's  marriage — d'ye  hear  ? 

With.  I  do,  my  friend ;  and  I  should 
hear  quite  as  well  though  you  did  not 
speak  so  loud. 

Hardy.  And  bring  Willis  with  you,  he 
is  a  good  lad  ;  I  have  a  great  respect  for 
him,  else  I  should  not  have  recommended 
him  to  you.  You  are  pleased  with  him, 
aint  you  ? 

With.  I  am,  indeed.  Each  day  of  the 
few  months  he  has  been  a  companion  to 
me,  he  has  grown  in  my  esteem.  His  good 
sense,  his  kindly  disposition,  his  urbanity, 
have  won  from  me  the  confidence  and  af- 
fection of  a  friend. 

Hardy.  That's  well;  and  Marian — she 
doesn't  disgrace  my  recommendation,  I'll 
answer  for  it.  Where  is  she? 

Mrs.  S.  She's  engaged  in  my  room,  sir. 
Mr.  Witherton  received  her  into  the 
family  at  your  request;  but  really  I — I 
have  so  little  to  do,  that  an  assistant  is 
quite  needless  to  me ;  and,  as  I  am  for 
sparing  my  good  master  all  the  expense  I 


PAUL  PRY. 


373 


can  in  the  management  of  his  house,  it 
strikes  me  that — 

Hardy.  I  think  I  could  show  him  where 
one  might  be  saved. 

With.  No  matter.  The  expense  is  tri- 
fling, and  the  poor  thing  appears  to  be 
happy  to  be  here ;  and  heaven  knows  that 
the  sight  of  a  happy  face  is  the  only  solace 
in  my  lonely  existence. 

Hardy.  Serve  you  right,  you  old  fool, 
for  not  marrying  in  your  youth ;  I  don't 
wish  to  say  anything  unpleasant,  but  it 
serves  you  right,  I  tell  you.  And  then,  to 
make  matters  worse,  you  must  needs  go 
pass  your  days  at  a  melancholy  place  in 
Wiltshire,  where  you  have  only  those 
about  you,  who — ah. — As  to  your  neglect- 
ing your  nephew,  I'll  say  nothing  about 
that  "now,  because  I  won't  make  you  un- 
comfortable. But  you  repent  it,  I  know 
you  do ;  and  you'll  repent  it  more  every 
day  you  live. 

"With.  That  is  a  subject  I  must  not  hear 
mentioned,  even  by  you. 

Hardy.  Why  now,  who  the  deuce  does 
mention  it  ?  Didn't  I  this  very  moment 
say  I  won't  mention  it  for  fear  of  making 
you  uncomfortable  ?  Ah,  you  are  a  fool- 
ish old  fellow — mark  my  words,  you  are  a 
very  foolish  old  fellow.  I'll  go  home  and 
talk  to  my  daughter  about  her  marriage. 
Bless  her  dear  innocent  little  heart,  there 
she  is,  I'll  answer  for  it,  quietly  seated  in 
the  library  reading  the  Spectator,  or  paint- 
ing the  daffodils  on  velvet.  Well,  good 
morning.  I  shall  expect  you. 

[Shakes  Witherton's  hands  violently. 

With.     I'll    come,    but — consider    my 

n  er ves.  [  Goes  and  sits. 

Hardy.  Plague  your  nerves,  but  it  serves 

you  right.     If  you  had  lived  a  jolly  life, 

as  I  have  done,  you  would  never  have 

had  any  nerves.     Good  morning,   Mrs. 

Subtle. 

Mrs.  S.  I  wish  you  a  very  good  morning, 
sir ;  allow  me  to  conduct  you  to  the  door. 
Hardy.  Willis,  you  will  be  sure  to  come 
with  Mr.  Withertbn.  The  train  is  fairly 
laid  ;  do  you  and  your  little  wife  be  on 
your  guard ;  and  if  we  don't  blow  your 
enemies  into  the  air — [Muttering  to  Mrs. 
/Subtle,  who  curtsies  ceremoniously. 

[Exit  Hardy  and  Mrs.  Subtle. 

WILLIS  comes  down. 
With.  There  goes  a  happy  man.     Oh, 


Hardy  is  right, 
in  my  youth. 


ought  to  have  married 


Willis.  And  why  did  you  not,  sir? 
With.  For  the  fool's  reason  ;  I  was  un- 
willing to  sacrifice  my  liberty.  And  what 
is  the  ooasted  liberty  of  a  bachelor?  He 
makes  a  solitary  journey  through  life 
loving  no  one,  by  none  beloved  ;  and  when 
he  reaches  the  confines  of  old  age,  that 
which,  with  a  tender  companion  by  his 
side,  might  have  been  to  him  a  garden  of 
repose,  he  finds  a  barren  wilderness. 

Willis.  True,  sir;  and  often  with  the 
sacrifice  of  his  dear  liberty  into  the  bar- 
gain :  avoiding  the  dreaded  control  of  a 
wife,  he  deems  himself  a  slave  to  cunning 
and  interested  dependants. 

With.  (Looking  cautiously  about.) 
Willis,  Willis,  that  I  sometimes  fear  is  my 
case ;  not  that  I  have  any  reason  to  doubt 
the  fidelity  and  attachment  of  Grasp,  or 
Mrs.  Subtle,  but  they  frequently  assume 
an  authority  over  me,  which,  however  it 
may  displease  me,  yet  from  a  long,  lazy 
habit  of  submission,  I  have  scarcely  the 
courage  to  resist. 

Willis.  (Aside.)  My  poor  uncle  1 
With.  But  Mrs.  Subtle  is  a  good  soul,  a 
kind  soul,  and  as  attentive  and  affection- 
ate towards  me  as  a  sister.  Do  you  know 
that  notwithstanding  her  humble  situation 
here,  she  is  well  born,  as  she  tells  me,  well 
educated :  aye,  and  a  very  fine  woman 
too. 

Willis.  (Aside.)  It  is  not  difficult  to  per- 
ceive where  this  will  end.  You,  you  nad 
a  sister,  sir. 

With.  I  had;  the  mother  of  my  un- 
grateful and  disobedient  nephew.  She 
went  abroad,  died,  and  left  an  only  son ; 
this  Edward  Somers.  He  might  have  been 
a  joy  and  comfort  to  me,  he  is  my  bane  and 
curse.  But  let  us -speak  of  him  no  more : 
his  very  name  is  hateful  to  me. 

Willis.  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  ven» 
tured,  sir.  Duty  and  respect,  which 
hitherto  have  constrained  me  to  be  silent, 
now  bid  me  speak.  What  proofs  have  you 
of  his  ingratitude  and  disobedience  ? 

With.  The  proofs  are  in  his  conduct. 
At  his  mother's  death  I  wrote  to  him  to 
come  to  England,  told  him  of  my  inten- 
tion to  settle  the  bulk  of  my  fortune  upon 
him,  to  receive  and  consider  him  as  my 

son,  to— 

Willis.  You  wrote  to  him  ? 
With.   Aye;  and  often,  as  Grasp  and 
Mrs.  Subtle  can  testify ;  for  they  saw  my 
letters.    But  he  neglected  my  commands  : 
nay,  did  not  even  deign  to  notice  them. 


374 


PAUL  PRY. 


At  length,  by  mere  accident,  I  discovered 
that  he  was  in  England,  living  obscurely 
in  a  mean  village,  married — Willis !  and 
as  if  to  give  point  and  poignancy  to  his 
disrespect,  without  even  the  form  of 
asking  the  consent  and  approbation  of 
me,  his  only  relation,  his  friend,  his  bene- 
factor. 

Willis.  How,  sir !  did  he  not  write  letter 
after  letter,  complaining  of  your  neglect 
of  him  ?  Did  he  not  entreat,  implore  your 
sanction  to  his  marriage  ?  till  wearied  at 
last  by  your  continued  silence,  he  became 
fully  warranted  in  deciding  for  himself. 

With.  The  goodness  of  your  own  nature 
suggests  these  excuses  for  his  misconduct. 
He  did,  indeed,  sometimes  write  to  me, 
but  in  such  terms,  Willis 

Willis.  Where  are  those  letters,  sir? 

With.  Mrs.  Subtle,  in  kindness  towards 
the  reprobate,  destroyed  them  the  moment 
she  read  them  to  me. 

Willis.  She  read  them  ?  Did  not  you, 
yourself,  read  them,  sir  ? 

With.  No,  the  good  soul  spared  me  that 
pain ;  and  as  Grasp  has  since  told  me,  she 
even  suppressed  the  most  offensive  pas- 
sages. 

Willis.  Oh,  infamy ! 

With.  Aye,  question  me  now  what 
grounds  there  are  for  my  displeasure ;  but 
when  I  add  that  he  has  disgraced  me  by 
his  worthless  choice,  that  the  woman  he 
is  married  is — : 

Willis.  Hold,  sir !  I  can  hear  no  more. 
Your  nephew  may  deserve  your  bitterest 
reproaches,  but 

With.  Hush !  here  comes  Mrs.  Subtle 
and  Grasp.  When  you,  a  stranger  to  me, 
can  with  difficulty  restrain  your  indigna- 
tion, what  must  be  mine  ? 

Willis.  (Aside.)  My  poor  Marian  I  We 
must  endure  this  yet  awhile. 

Enter  MRS.  SUBTLE  and  GRASP. 

Mrs.  S.  Now,  sir,  it  is  your  hour  for 
walking.  I  have  brought  you  your  hat 
and  cane. 

With.  Ever  attentive  Mrs.  Subtle : 
thankye,  thankye. 

(To  Grasp.)  Well,  Grasp,  have  you  got 
that  fifty  pounds  I  asked  you  for  ? 

Grasp.  Yes ;  but  I  can't  think  what 
you  want  them  for ;  I  have  been  plagued 
enough  to  procure  money  for  our  regular 
outlayings,  and  now — 

With.  That  ought  not  to  be ;  for  surely 
I  do  not  spend  to  the  extent  of  my  in- 


come ;  yet  when  I  desire  a  small  sum  for 
any  private  purpose,  you  pretend — 

Grasp.  Do  you  suppose  that  I  take  your 
money  ? 

With.  No  Grasp,  but— 

Grasp.  You  are  for  ever  drawing 
money  for  these  idle  uses.  Five  pounds 
for  this  poor  family,  ten  for  that — 

With.  Well,  well,  you  are  an  old  ser- 
vant, and  I  believe  faithfully  attached  to 
my  interests ;  but  I  wish  you  would  correct 
your  manner. 

Mrs.  S.  Indeed,  Mr.  Grasp,  you  should 
endeavour  to  moderate  your  tone :  to  use 
more  respect  when  you  address  our  good 
master.  [Takes  Witherton's  hand.]  Our 
kind  friend. 

With.  Ah,  Mrs.  Subtle !  you  are  a  worthy 
creature  ;  and  one  of  these  days  you  may 
find  I  am  not  ungrateful.  [To  Grasp, 
mildly.}  Give  that  money  to  Willis;  I 
shall  direct  him  in  the  disposal  of  it. 

Grasp.  I  had  better  give  up  my  accounts 
to  him,  my  place.  Till  lately,  it  has  been 
my  business  to  manage  your  money  affairs. 
However,  I  have  no  notion  of  an  inter- 
loper in  the  family,  and  either  Mr.  Willis, 
or  I,  must  quit  the  house. 

Willis.  Do  not  let  me  be  a  source  of  dis- 
cord here,  sir. 

Mrs.  S.  [Artfully  interposing  between 
Grasp  and  Witherton,  who  is  about  to  speak.] 
Now — now — indeed,  Mr.  Grasp — you  are 
wrong — [  To  him.]  You  are  going  too  far. 
[  To  With.]  Say  nothing  to  him,  sir :  I 
will  reprove  him  for  this  misconduct  by 
and  by. 

With.  But  to  treat  me  thus,  and  in  the 
presence  of  Willis,  too ! — Grasp,  you  will 
do  as  I  desire.  Willis,  must  speak  to  you 
on  my  return.  The  day  is  fine,  and  a 
walk  will  do  me  good. 

Mrs.  S.  Will  you  be  very,  very  much 
displeased,  if  I  offer  you  my  arm  to  lean 
upon,  sir  ? 

With.  Thankye,  Mrs.  Subtle,  thankye. 
Come. 

[  Grasp  goes  up  and  gives  money  to  Willis 
as  they  are  going  off".] 

Enter  PRY. 

Pry.  Ha !  How  d'ye  do  this  morning. 
I  hope  I  don't  intrude  ? 

With.  No,  Mr.  Pry,  no.  [^st'de.l  How 
provoking !  [ Mrs.  Subtle  retires up.\  But 
have  you  any  thing  particular  to  say  to 
me,  just  now? 

Pry.  No;  nothing  particular;  only,  as 


PAUL  PRY. 


375 


I  have  just  been  to  fetch  my  umbrella, 
which  I  left  last  Monday  to  be  mended — 
Monday — no ;  it  must  have  been — yes, 
I'm  right,  it  was  Monday;  I  remember  it, 
by  a  remarkable  circumstance ;  Mrs.  Jones 
sent  a  tray  of  pies  to  the  baker's,  on  a 
Monday,  mind  you. 

With.  And  what  was  there  remarkable 
in  that,  Mr.  Pry  ? 

Pry.  Pies  on  a  Monday !  She  is  not 
over  rich,  you  know,  and  as  I  happened 
to  know  she  had  pies  on  Sunday  I  pies 
two  days  following,  for  a  person  in  her 
circumstances,  did  seem  rather  odd,  you 
know. 

With.  Well,  that's  no  business  of  mine  ; 
and,  if  you  have  nothing — 

Pry.  No !  only  I  thought  that  in  my 
way  back,  I  might  as  well  drop  in,  and 
say  how  d'ye  do.  I  say  Mrs.  Subtle,  you 
are  a  judge.  I  don't  think  this  a  dear  job 
for  one  and  nine-pence. — [Opens  his  um- 
brella.] 

Mrs.  S.  I  must  give  him  a  broad  hint, 
or  we  shall  be  pestered  with  the  tedious 
fool  for  an  hour.  Mr.  Pry,  I  beg  pardon  ; 
but  Mr.  Witherton  was  just  going  to  take 
his  customary  walk. 

Pry.  There  is  nothing  so  good  for  the 
health  as  walking.  [Brings  down  a  chair 
and  sits.] 

Mrs.  S.  There !  now  he  is  fixed  for  the 
day. 

Pry.  That  is  to  aay,  walking  in  modera- 
tion. I  am  a  great  walker  myself;  I  once 
brought  on  a  fit  of  the  gout  by  it ;  I  did,  al- 
though some  people  would  have  it  to  be 
nothing  but  the  rheumatiz.  I  have  had 
the  rheumatiz  too,  and  know  the  differ- 
ence ;  elbows  and  knees,  at  the  same  time. 
I  was  in  this  position  for  three  weeks,  I 
was,  I  assure  you,  looking  exactly  like  a 
goose,  ready  trussed  for  roasting. 

With.  Well,  good  day,  you'll  excuse 
me. 

Pry.  Certainly ;  if  you  are  going  down 
the  road,  I'll  walk  with  you. 

Mrs.  S.  But  we  are  not,  sir. 

Pry.  No  matter  ;  I'll  walk  with  you  the 
other  way — I  have  nothing  to  do. 

Mrs.  S.  But  we  have  something  to  speak 
about. 

Pry.  Ah !  ha !  Mrs.  Subtle,  you  are  a 
sly  one.  Wheedle  yourself  into  the  old 
gentleman's  good  graces,  eh  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Sir ! 

Pry.  Well,  don't  be  angry,  I  only  spoke, 
you  know. 


With.  Come,  Mrs.  Subtle,  come,  for  we 
shall  now  get  rid  of  him.  Some  other 
time  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  Sir. 

[Exeunt  Mrs.  Subtle  and  Witherton.} 

Pry.  Thank  ye,  I'll  drop  in  again,  by 
and  by  ;  a  pleasant  walk.  Well,  Mr.  Wil- 
lis, and  how  do  you  do? 

Willis.  Now  it  is  my  turn. 

Pry.  I  say,  Marian,  Mrs.  Subtle's  assist- 
ant is  a  very  pretty  young  woman  ;  I  saw 
you,  last  night,  walking  together,  by  the 
river  side,  though  you  didn't  see  me.  I 
followed  you  for  nearly  half  an  hour. 

Willis.  Followed  us  I 

Pry.  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me, 
make  out  what  you  were  talking  about. 
Not  difficult  to  guess,  eh  ?  I  don't  think 
it  would  be  quite  the  match  for  you, 
though. 

Willis.  (Aside.)  Then  he  does  not  sus- 
pect she  is  my  wife  I 

Pry.  After  all,  she  is  but  a  sort  of  de- 
puty housekeeper,  and  I  am  told  you  be- 
long to  a  respectable  family.  Tolerable 
respectable,  eh  ? 

Willis.  Mr.  Paul  Pry,  if  you  can  make 
it  appear  that  it  concerns  you  a  thou- 
sandth part  of  a  straw  to  know,  I'll  write 
the  history  of  my  birth,  parentage  and 
education,  for  your  particular  informa- 
tion. Good  morning  to  you,  Mr.  Pry. 

[Exit. 

Pry.  Good  morning  to  you,  Mr.  Willis, 
that's  an  uncommon  polite  young  man. 
You  are  bringing  him  up  to  succeed  you, 
I  suppose,  eh,  Mr.  Grasp  ?  no  bad  thing 
neither ;  you  must  have  a  very  comforta- 
ble place  here. 

Grasp.  Pretty  well,  as  times  go. 

Pry.  Tho'  from  your  master  taking  this 
small  house,  economy  is  the  order  of  the 
day,  I  take  it,  eh  ? 

Grasp.  You  had  better  ask  my  master. 
Pry.  No ;  he'd  think  it  impertinent, 
perhaps.  Bless  you,  it  is  no  business  of 
mine  ;  only  it  appears  odd — neither  chick 
nor  child,  and,  whenever  he  dies,  he'll 
ut  up  for  a  pretty  round  sum,  eh — a  hun- 
dred thousand — eighty,  eh  ? — and  you, 
you  cunning  dog — I  dare  say,  you  have 
laid  by  a  few  thousands.  Now,  between 
ourselves,  if  it  is  not  asking  an  imperti- 
nent question. 

Grasp.  Not  at  all ;  [Looks  at  his  watch.] 
Exactly  ten  minutes  past  twelve :  so  I 
wish  you  good  morning.  [Exit. 

Pry.  That's  one  of  the  strangest— [Look- 
ing about.]  Well,  I  can't  say  it  is  very 


376 


PAUL  PRY. 


polite  of  them  to  leave  me  here  alone.  If 
I  were  the  least  of  a  bore  now,  it  would 
be  pardonable,  but — [Looks  at  his  watch.} 
Well,  it  is  only  ten  minutes  after  twelve, 
I  declare.  How  long  the  day  seems  ;  what 
shall  I  do  till  dinnertime  ?  let  me  see !  I'll 
just  drop  in  at — [Looking  off.}  Oho!  is 
it  so  ?  aha,  my  young  spark — trying  the 
lock  of  Colonel  Hardy  s  garden  gate ! 
That's  very  mysterious !  Egad,  I'll  soon 
find  out  what  you  want  there.  [Running 
off  and  returning.}  I  had  like  to  have  gone 
without  my  umbrella.  [Exit. 

SCENE  III. — Colonel  HARDY'S  Garden 
—GardenWall. 

Enter  PHEBE. 

Phe.  Oh  dear !  oh  dear ! — here's  anoth- 
er fine  day,  and  not  a  single  cloud  in  the 
heavens  to  give  me  a  hope  of  the  rainy 
weather  setting  in.  Here,  in  this  stupid 
village,  at  fifty  miles  from  London,  have 
Miss  Eliza  and  I  been  vegetating  three 
eternal  months,  and  as  the  sky  continues 
so  vexatiously  bright,  and  the  barometer 
obstinately  pointing  at  "  set  fair,"  I  see 
no  chance  of  a  speedy  return  to  dear,  de- 
lightful town.  Heigho! — This  fine  sea- 
son will  be  the  death  of  me. 

Enter  ELIZA,  with  a  book. 

Eliza.  Heigho! 

Phe.  Heigho !  aye,  that  is  the  burthen 
of  our  melancholy  song. 

Eliza.  What  day  is  this,  Phebe? 

Phe.  Who  can  tell,  Miss  ?  Days  are  so 
much  alike  in  this  dull  place,  that  it  may 
be  yesterday,  or  to-morrow,  for  anything 
there  is  to  mark  the  difference. 

Eliza.  And  has  the  country  no  charms 
for  you,  Phebe?  the  spreading  foliage,  the 
natural  music  of  the  birds,  London  cries, 
the  sublime  spectacle  of  the  rising  sun  ? 

Phe.  Very  fine,  I  dare  say ;  but  one 
must  get  up  so  early  in  the  morning  to  see 
it. 

Eliza.  Early  in  the  morning?  when  else 
would  you  see  the  sun  rise,  Phebe  ? 

Phe.  Going  home  from  a  masquerade,  or 
a  ball,  late  at  night,  Miss.  All  that  may 
be  very  pleasant  to  a  romantic  young  lady 
like  you,  just  returned  from  boarding 
school ;  but  for  my  part,  if  indeed  one  had 
a  little  agreeable  society  here — 

JSliea.  well,  and  so  we  have;  there's 
my  Pa,  there's  Mr.  Paul  Pry,  drops  in 
sometim  es 

Phe,  Mr.  Paul  Pry !  charming  company 


indeed ! — [JUimi-cs  him.}  "  If  it  isn't  an  im- 
pertinent question."  The  last  time  he 
was  here,  he  asked  me  such  things  that 
really ! 

Eliza.  Then  Mr.  Witherton  comes  to 
see  us  occasionally. 

Phe.  When  his  housekeeper  allows  him. 
An  old  twaddler !  No,  Miss,  that  is  not 
the  sort  of  society  I  mean. 

Eliza.  What  do  you  mean,  Phebe  ? 

Phe.  A  lover,  Miss. 

Eliza.  Oh  fie!  [They  rise.}  If  my  Pa 
were  to  hear  you  talk  so. 

Phe.  And  were  you  never  in  love, 
then? 

Eliza.  No,  Phebe;  and  my  Pa  would 
be  very  angry  if  I  were  to  fall  in  love 
without  his  leave.  [Aside.}  I'm  afraid 
to  trust  her. 

Phe.  (Aside.)  What  a  yea-nay  piece  of 
innocence  it  is — well,  Miss,  I  have  no  Pa 
to  be  angry  with  me,  and  if  a  pretty  young 
fellow  were  to  fall  in  my  way. — 

Eliza.  Ha'  done,  Phebe,  I  must  not 
hear  you  talk  so;  as  to  company,  you 
know  my  cousin  Frank  is  coming  home 
from  sea  in  about  a  week.  We  have  not 
seen  him  since  he  was  quite  a  boy,  and 
he'll  be  company  for  us. 

Phe.  And  how  are  we  to  amuse  our- 
selves for  a  week  ? 

Eliza.  We  may  read,  work,  or  sing. 

Phe.  And  when  we  are  tired  of  that,  to 
vary  our  amusement — we  may  sing,  work, 
and  read. 

SONG,  "  Tfie  Lover's  Mistake." 

Ah,  me!  a  country  life  is  unfit  for  a 
single  woman,  and  as  my  last  mistress, 
Lady  Courtly,  used  to  say,  there  are  but 
three  circumstances  that  can  render  it 
tolerable  to  be  a  married  one. 

Eliza.  And  what  are  they? 

Phe.  Hedges  very  high ;  ditches  wide 
and  deep ;  and  a  husband  passionately 
fond  of  hunting. 

[  A  flute  heard  behind  wall.  "  Tell  her  I 
love  her." 

Eliza.  \Lets  her  book  drop.}  Oh,  dear  ma ! 

Phe.  What's  that? 

Eliza.  That,  Phebe !  I  suspect  it  is  noth- 
ing but  a  flute.  [Aside.}  lam  sure  that 
is  his  signal.  How  imprudent  for  him  to 
come  down  here. 

Phe.  Nothing  but  a  flute.  Now  as  flutes 
don't  usually  play  of  themselves,  I  suspect 
it  must  be  something  more. 

Eliza.  Well,  Phebe,  I— I'll  confide  my 


PAUL  PRY. 


377 


secret  to  you  ;  but  you  won't  betray  me. 
It  is  my  Harry. 

Phe.  So,  then,  Miss  Innocence,  you 
have  a  Harry  of  your  own.  Well  done 
upon  my  word.  And  who  is  your  Harry5? 

Eliza.  Harry  Stanley,  a  lieutenant  in 
the  navy. 

Phe.  And  where  could  you  have  be- 
come acquainted  with  him  ?  You  have 
not  been  from  under  your  father's  eye 
since  you  were  at  boarding  school,  and — 

Eliza.  There  it  was,  Phebe ;  he  used  to 
come  there  to  see  his  sister  Harriet ;  and, 
one  day,  we  fell  in  love  with  each  other. 

Phe  "(Laughing.}  "Oh  fie,  Phebe,  if  my 
Pa  were  to  hear  you  talk  so ;  "  and  pray 
ain't  you  ashamed  to  fall  in  love  without 
your  Pa's  leave  ? 

Eliza.  No,  Phebe,  for  he's  very  young, 
and  very  handsome.  He's  only  eighteau. 

Phe.  Now,  Miss,  let  me  give  you  a  word 
of  serious  advice.  I  won't  betray  your 
secret,  I  promise  you ;  but  let  me  recom- 
mend you  to  mention  it  yourself  to  your 
father,  and  if  the  young  gentleman  should 
prove  a  suitable  match  for  you — I  dare 
say 

Eliza.  Don't  you  speak  of  that.  I  dare 
not  for  the  world.  First  of  all,  you  know 
my  Pa  has  some  other  marriage  in  view 
for  me ;  and  then  he  is  so  passionate  and 
peremptory 

Phe.  And  as  abrupt  and  absolute  as  if 
he  were  commanding  his  regiment. 

Hardy.  \  Within  the  house. ]  Eliza,  where 
are  you? 

Phe.  Bless  me,  here  he  comes. 

Eliza.  If  my  Harry  should  repeat  the 
signal,  we  shall  be  discovered. 

Enter  HARDY,  from  house. 

Hardy.  Eliza,  my  dear,  I  expect  com- 
pany to-day. 

Eliza.  Do  you,  pa? 

Hardy.  My  neighbour  Witherton,  and 
a  young  gentleman  I  expect  from  London 
to-day.  He  is  the  husband  I  intend  for 
you.  You'll  be  married  in  a  week. 

Eliza.  So  soon,  Pa  ? 

Hardy.  Aye,  and  sooner  if  by  chance  my 
nephew  Frank  should  return.  I  dare  say 
Frank  has  grown  a  giant.  I  long  to  see 
the  boy ;  I  have  not  seen  him  since  he  was 
nine  years  old. 

Phe.  But  I  believe,  sir,  my  young  lady 
has  never  seen  the  young  gentleman  you 
intend  for  her  husband  ? 

Hardy.  What  of  that?  she  is  no  worse 


off  than  I  am.  I  have  not  seen  him.  His 
father  writes  me  word  that  he  has  a  son, 
who  is  a  prodigy.  I  replied  that  my 
daughter  is  a  miracle:  the  marriage  is 
concluded  on,  and  who  dares  say  any- 
thing against  it?  Do  you,  or  do  you? 
Nobody  has  anything  to  say  against  it. 
So  much  the  better;  all  parties  must  be 
perfectly  satisfied.  [Takes  Eliza's  hand.] 
That's  a  good  obedient  girl. 

Phe.  (Aside.)  Oh!  the  sulky  thing!  I 
have  no  patience  with  her.  Beg  pardon, 
sir;  but  suppose — I  merely  say,  suppose 
— Miss  Eliza  should  happen  not  to  love 
your  intended  son-in-law  ? 

Hardy.  What  then  ?  what  is  love  ?  what 
has  love  to  do  with  it  ?  Did  I  marry  her 
mother  for  love  ?  yet  we  were  very  happy 
together ;  at  least  I  can  speak  for  myself. 
I  was  happy  when  I  married  her — happy 
whilst  she  lived — happy  when  she  died : 
and  I've  been  happy  ever  since,  and  that's 
worth  all  the  love  in  the  universe. 

Phe.  Some  folks  may  not  be  of  your 
way  of  thinking,  sir. 

Hardy.  Think,  indeed,  you  saucy  bag- 
gage !  what  do  you  mean  by  thinking  ? 
Who  gave  you  liberty  to  think  ?  I  allow 
nobody  in  my  house  to  think.  I  am  not 
like  old  Withertou ;  I  expect  obedience ; 
so  obey,  all  of  you,  dy'e  hear  ? 

Eliza.  But  Pa,  if  I  might  enquire  the 
gentleman's  name — 

Phe.  (Aside.)  There's  an  effort. 

Hardy.  Hey-day!  a  mutiny  in  the  re- 
giment. If  you  had  not  asked,  perhaps 
I'd  have  told  you:  now  you  shall  know 
nothing  about  it ;  you  shall  not  know  who 
he  is  till  you  are  under  the  hands  of  the 
parson.  If  you  provoke  me  further,  you 
shall  marry  him  blindfold.  May  be,  never 
know  who  he  is.  But  I  perceive  what 
this  is.  [To  Phebe.]  It  is  you  who  have 
been  putting  these  romantic  notions  about 
loving  a  husband  into  my  girl's  head. 

Phe.  Desiring  to  know  who  her  husband 
is  to  be,  is  mighty  romantic,  truly.  If,  in- 
deed, now,  she  was  to  entertain  a  secret 
passion  for  some  ardent  youth  who  should 
serenade  her  by  moon-light. 

Hardy.  She !  she  presume  to  fall  in  love 
without  my  consent !  Look  at  her,  bless 
her  innocent  heart  ?  I  tell  you  what,  Miss 
Phebe,  if  I  hear  any  more — but  what  was 
that  you  said  about  serenading?  That  re' 
minds  me — who  was  that  playing  the  flute 
under  my  garden  wall  just  now? 

Phe.  How  should  we  know, sir?  mosf 


378 


PAUL  PRY. 


likely  some  bird-catcher  decoying  the 
thrushes. 

Hardy.  Thrushes,  indeed!  No,  no,  it 
was  not  the  thrushes  he  was  decoying. 
Some  flirtation  of  your's,  I  dare  say,  and 
I  won't  allow  it. 

Phe.  Mine,  indeed,  sir !  I  am  no  more 
capable  of  such  a  thing  than  my  young 
lady  herself. 

Hardy.  Say  no  more  on  the  subject.  It 
is  setting  a  bad  example  to  my  daughter, 
and  I  won't  allow  it,  I  tell  you.  Come  in 
with  me,  my  dear;  and  hark'ye,  Mrs. 
Phebe,  your  bird-catcher  had  better  take 
care  I  don't  catch  him.  [As  he  is  going,  a 
stone  with  a  letter  attached  to  it,  is  thrown 
over  the  wall.]  What's  that? 

Eliza.  Oh !  Phebe,  what  will  become  of 
me? 

Hardy.  What's  that,  I  say ! 

Phe.  That  sir,  why  can't  you  see  what 
it  is  ?  A  stone  some  idle  boy  has  thrown 
over  the  wall. 

Hardy.  I  say,  you  idle  boy,  how  dare 
you  throw  stones?  why  there's  a  letter 
tied  to  it.  Stand  out  of  the  way,  and  let 
me  have  it.  No  address. 

Phe.  (Aside.)  That's  fortunate.  Give  it 
to  me,  sir,  it  is  mine. 

Hardy.  Your's,  is  it  ?  we  shall  soon  see 
that.  Why,  what  a  scrawl — and  in  pencil 
too.  [Reads.]  "  Loveliest  of  your  sex." 

Phe.  There,  sir,  I  told  you,  it  was  ad- 
dressed to  me. 

Phe.  Tis  quite  clear,  it  is  not  for  you, 
sir ;  so  give  it  to  me. 

Hardy.  Will  somebody  stop  that  girl's 
tongue  ?  Let  me  be — [Reads.}  "  Persua- 
ded you  would  recognise  the  signal,  and 
attend  to  it,  I  had  determined  to  scale 
the  garden  wall,  but  am  prevented  by  an 
impertinent  fellow,  who  is  watching  my 
movements.  An  interview  is  indispensable, 
as  I  have  something  of  the  deepest  im- 
portance to  communicate.  When  he  is 
gone,  I  will  return.  Has  your  father" 
[your  father !]  "  any  suspicion  of  my 
mutual  attachment?  Your  eternally  de- 
voted— "  No  signature ;  so,  the  case  is 
evident.  [To  Eliza.]  Now,  Miss  Timi- 
dity, you  with  your  demure  looks — you, 
who  have  never  an  answer  beyond  "  yes, 
Pa,"  and  can  scarcely  say  "  Boo,  to  a 
goose,"  what  can  you  find  to  say  to  this  ? 
Answer  me,  who  is  this  bird  catcher  of 
yours?  speak,  I  say. 

Eliza.  Indeed,  Pa,  I 

Phe.  Don't  answer,  Miss ;  if  you  have 


any  secrets  of  your  own,  you  may  do  as 
you  please  about  it,  but  you  have  no  right 
to  divulge  mine. 

Hardy.  Your's  !  Don't  attempt  to  de- 
ceive me.  Her  looks  convict  her.  Be- 
sides, am  not  I  her  father  mentioned  here  ? 

Phe.  No,  sir,  it  is  my  father. 

Hardy.  Your  father?  How  the  devil 
came  you  by  a  father  ?  who  ever  heard  of 
your  father? 

Phe.  I  imagine  I  have  as  good  a  right 
to  a  father  as  my  betters;  at  any  rate,  that 
letter  is  mine.  The  appointment  was  with 
me ;  and  if  you  was  twenty  times  my 
master,  I  would  protest  against  your  com- 
petency to  intercept  my  correspondence. 

Hardy.  WThy,  zounds  !  here's  a  cham- 
bermaid talking  like  a  member  of  parlia- 
ment. But  I'll  presently  come  to  the 
truth  of  this,  and  if  I  find  you  to  blame, 
[To  Eliza.]  I'll  lock  you  up  on  brea-1 
and  water,  till  you  are  married  ;  and  your 
husband  shall  do  the  same  by  you  for  the 
rest  of  your  life  afterwards.  But  how  to 

Eroceed?  I  have  it.  The  fellow,  whoever 
e  is,  intends  to  return ;  no  doubt  he  is 
still  lurking  about.  Stay  you  where  you 
are,  don't  move,  and  if  either  of  you  utter 
a  sound,  or  give  the  slightest  signal,  wo  be 
to  you.  [Places  the  ladder  against  the  wall, 
mounts,  and  looks  cautiously  over. 

Eliza.  Phebe,  Phebe,  my  poor  Harry 
will  be  discovered,  and  what  are  we  to  do 
then? 

Phe.  What  indeed,  Miss !  but  it  is  your 
own  fault.  If  you  had  admitted  me  to 
your  confidence,  I  could  have  managed 
matters  much  better,  I  promise  you. 

Hardy.  [Descending.]  I  have  him  ;  there 
he  is  crouching  on  the  ground  with  his 
eye  at  the  keyhole.  He  shall  find  me  a 
more  expert  bird-catcher  than  himself — 
for  I'll  catch  him  first :  and  hang  me,  but 
I'll  salt  his  tail  for  him  afterwards.  [Hardy 
suddenly  opens  the  garden  gate,  and  dis- 
covers Pry,  in  the  attitude  described.  He 
seizes  him  by  the  collar,  and  drags  him.]  I 
have  you,  you  villain.  Come  in  and  let 
me  hear  what  you  have  to  say  for  your- 
self; who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want 
here? 

Eliza.  [To  Phebe.]     Why,  'tis  Mr.  Pry. 

Phe.  Then  we  are  safe. 

Hardy.  Speak,  I  say,  who  are  you  ? 

Pry.  You  know  I  can't  speak  if  you 
choke  me. 

Hardy.  I  have  something  worse  than 
choking  for  you — who  are  you  ? 


PAUL  PRY. 


379 


Pry.  Why,  don't  you  know  me? — Mr. 
Pry— Paul  Pry. 

Hardy.  And  so  it  is ;  so  then  you  are 
the  bird-catcher,  you  rascal. 

Pry.  Bless  you,  no,  I'm  no  bird-catcher, 
I'm 

Hardy.  And  it  is  thus  you  abuse  my 
hospitality?  Is  it  for  this  you  are  con- 
stantly dropping  in  ?  Confess  the  truth,  or 
you  shall  drop  down  in  where  you  little 
expect  before  you  are  five  minutes  older. 

Pry.  What  is  it  you  mean  ? 

Hardy.  Is  it  the  mistress  or  the  maid  ? 

Pry.  Are  you  out  of  your  senses  ? 

Hardy.  You  think  I'm  in  the  dark ;  but 
I'll  convince  you,  I  have  detected  your 
intrigue.  [Shows  the  stone.]  What's  this  ? 

Pry.  That! 

Hardy.  No  equivocation.    What  is  it  ? 

Pry.  Why,  I  should  take  it  to  be  a 
stone. 

Hardy.  Oh,  you  confess  that.  And 
what's  this  ?  [Shows  the  note. 

Pry.  It  looks  like  a  note. 

Hardy.  A  note !  very  well !  But  I  have 
not  done  with  you  yet.  You  have  others 
about  you.  [Chasing  him  round.]  What 
have  you  done  with  your  flute  ? 

Pry.  [Presenting  his  umbrella.]  What 
have  you  done  with  your  senses  ? 

Phebe.  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed 
of  yourself,  Mr.  Pry,  to  send  letters  to  me, 
and  compromise  a  young  womanVreputa- 
tion  as  you  have  done. 

Pry.  I — upon  my  life,  I  never  compro- ; 
mised  a  young  woman  since  the  day  I  was  ! 
born. 

Phebe.  [Making  signs  to  him.  \     If  you  j 
mean  honorable  towards  me,  speak  to  my  | 
father,  otherwise  your  playing  the  flute  is 
but  playing  the  fool,  that  I  can  tell  you. 

Pry.  Oh,  I  perceive  you  mistake  me  for 
the  young  man  I  surprised  just  now. 

Hardy.  What — what — a  young  man — 
then  it  wasn't  you 

Pry.  Lord,  no.  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it.  [Familiarly  taking  Hardy's  arm,  who 
indignantly  throws  him  off.~] 

Hardy.  Do  then,  and  be  quick. 

Phebe.  Devil  take  the  chattering  booby  ! 

Pry.  You  must  know  I  was  coming 
from  Mr.  Witherton's,  where  I  had  just 
dropt  in  to  ask  him  how  his  tooth  was — 
now  that's  very  provoking,  I  forgot  to  ask 
him  after  all. 

Hardy.  Never  mind  the  tooth  now — get 
on  with  your  story. 

Pry.  And  just  as  I  was  turning  the 


corner,  I  perceived  a  young  man  prepar- 
ing to  climb  your  wall.  The  instant  he 
saw  me,  away  he  ran — oho !  thinks  I 

Hardy.  Oh,  the  tiresome — In  a  word, 
then,  he  has  escaped. 

Pry.  He  ran  away,  as  I  said — and  that's 
all  I  know  of  the  matter. 

Hardy.  And  what  were  you  doing: 
there? 

Pry.  Eh !  why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
heard  a  talking  here  ;  and  as  I  could  not 
make  out  what  the  meaning  of  it  all  was, 
and  one  is  naturally  anxious  to  know,  you 
know ;  I  just  took  the  liberty  to  put  my  ear 
to  the  keyhole,  then  I  put  my  eye.  [Puts  his 
|  hand  to  his  eye.]  There  again !  I  shan't 
I  be  able  to  see  out  of  this  eye  for  a  week. 
I  hate  these  plaguy  small  keyholes,  the 
wind  comes  through  them  like  a  needle. 

Hardy.  So  then  you  confess  you  have 
been  eavesdropping  about  my  house.  Not 
content  with  coming  inside  perpetually  to 
see  what  is  going  forward,  you  must  go 

g;eping,  and  peeping  about  outside, 
arkee,  Mr.  Pry,  you  are  a  busy,  med- 
dling, curious,  impertinent 

Pry.  It  is  not  genteel  to  call  names. 
Indeed,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  obliged 
to  me  for  the  discovery. 

Hardy.  And  what  have  you  discovered  ? 
But  it  is  your  way.  You  never  get  hold 
of  a  story,  but  you  take  it  at  the  wrong 
end.  But  for  your  busy  interference,  the 
fellow  would  have  carried  his  intention 
into  execution,  and  I  should  have  had  him. 

Pry.  Well,  I  did  it  for  the  best ;  but  if 
ever  I  do  a  good  natured  thing  again ! 
[Picks  up  book  and  returns  to  garden  seat. 

Hardy.  'Tis  clear  there  is  something 
going  forward.  [To  ELIZA.!  But  now 
that  my  suspicions  are  excited,  I'll  watch 
you  closely,  and  if  I  find  you  concerned  in 
it [Leading  ELIZA  up  to  house.] 

Eliza.  Indeed,  pa 

Hardy.  Well,  well,  I'm  not  to  be  de- 
ceived, so  beware.  [Exit  ELIZA  into 
house.]  As  to  you,  you  imp  of  mischief, 
I'll  answer  for  it  you  are  in  the  plot,  what- 
ever it  is. 

Phebe.  That  is  the  rule  in  these  cases, 
the  Mistress  can  do  no  wrong ;  so  we,  poor 
ministers  of  waiting-women,  are  made  the 
scape-goats. 

Hardy.  [To  PHEBE.]  You  get  in !  [Exit 
PHEBE. 

[7b  PRY,  who  is  seated  on  the  garden 
ehair  reading.]  And  you  get  out !  [Opent 
the  door. 


380 


PAUL  PRY. 


Pry.  This  is  a  mysterious  affair — most 
mysterious.  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  till  I've 
discovered  what  it  is  all  about. 

Hardy.  Are  you  coming,  sir? 

Pry.  Beg  pardon,  Colonel — I  wish  you 
a  very  good  morning.  [Exit  gate.  \ 

Hardy.  Good  morning,  good  morning. 
The  meddling  blockhead  !  Can  this  have 
been  an  assignation  with  my  daughter? 
No,  no,  she  is  too  innocent,  too  artless — 
'tis  some  love  affair  of  Phebe's,  no  doubt. 
However,  I'll  have  my  eye  on  both  of 
them.  [A  loud  ring  at  the  bell.\  Who's 
that,  I  wonder?  [Opens  the  door,  and  PRY 
appears  at  gate. 

Pry.  Beg  pardon  !  I  forgot  my  um- 
brella, that's  all. 

Hardy.  Plague  take  you  and  your  um- 
breila.  [Hardy  seizes  the  garden  rake,  and 
aims  a  blow  at  PRY,  who  exit  hastily  at 
gate.] 

END  OF  ACT  I. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.— A  room  at  WITHERTON'S. 
Enter  WILLIS  and  MARIAN. 

Willis.  Yet  a  little  forbearance,  Mari- 
an, and  all  will  be  well. 

Marian.  Would  our  fate  were  decided, 
for  even  in  my  assumed  character,  I  find  it 
difficult  to  endure  the  tyranny  and  inso- 
lence of  Mrs.  Subtle.  The  struggle  is  se- 
vere between  the  affected  submission  of 
the  supposed  dependant,  and  the  real  in- 
dignation of  the  wife  of  Edward  Somers. 

Willis.  I,  too,  have;  a  difficult  part  to  j 
play.     This  morning  I  nearly  betrayed  j 
myself  to  my  uncle.     His   reproaches  of 
me,  undeserved  as  they  were,  I  listened  to 
unmoved — but  when  he  would  have  cen- 
sured you — fortunately  at  that  moment 
we  were  interrupted,  so  our  secret  is  still 
secure. 

Marian.  Upon  the  whole,  Edward,  I 
cannot  but  consider  this  scheme  of  our 
friend,  Colonel  Hardy's,  as  rather  a  wild 
one. 

Willis.  Yet  hitherto  it  has  succeeded. 
Here,  as  a  stranger,  and  in  the  character 
of  a  humble  companion,  I  have  won  from 
my  uncle  that  affection  which  the  in- 
trigues of  an  artful  woman  have  diverted 
from  me  as  his  nephew ;  you  also  are  no 
little  favorite  with  him.  Thus  the  main 
point  is  gained  by  the  destruction  of  a 
prejudice  unfavorable  to  us. 


Marian.  What  more  have  you  discov- 
ered of  Grasp  and  Mrs.  Subtle  ? 

Willis.  Sufficient  to  confirm  our  sus- 
picions, that  letters  from  and  to  me,  have 
been  intercepted  by  them.  I  have  reason, 
too,  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Subtle's  grand 
project  is  a  marriage  with  my  uncle — by 
the  influence  she  would  thus  obtain  over 
him,  our  ruin  would  be  accomplished. 

Marian.  And  are  there  no  means  of 
preventing  their  marriage  ? 

Willis.  I  fear  it  will  be  difficult ;  when 
the  affections  of  a  solitary  old  man,  a 
slave  like  him  to  circumstances  and  habit, 
are  once  entangled  in  the  snares  of  a  wily 
woman,  it  is  no  easy  task  to  disengage 
them.  But  Tiere  she  and  my  uncle  come. 
We  must  not  be  seen  together.  Ha  I  'tis 
too  late — they  are  here. 

Enter  WITHERTON,  leaning  on  MRS.  SUB- 
TLE'S arm. 

Mrs.  S.  Gently,  sir,  gently.  [To  MARI- 
AN.] What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Why  are 
you  not  in  your  own  apartment  ? 

Marian.  I — I  was  merely  talking  to  Mr. 
Willis,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  S.  Leave  the  room. 

With.  Speak  mildly  to  her,  my  good 
Mrs.  Subtle ;  consider — she  is  young  and 
timid. 

Mrs.  S.  Young  and  timid,  indeed ! 

With.  Go,  my  dear,  Mrs.  Subtle  is  a 
little  severe  in  manner,  but  she  means 
well. 

Marian.  I  obey  you,  sir. 

Mrs.  S.  [In  an  under  tone,]  Obey  me  or 
count  not  on  a  long  continuance  here — 
begone !  [Exit  MARIAN.]  Leave  her  to 
me,  sir  [To  WITHERTON].  I  understand 
these  matters  best;  \To  WILLIS,  in  a 
gentler  tone,}  and  you,  Mr.  Willis,  to  en- 
courage a  forward  chit  like  that — I'm 
astonished  at  you. 

Willis.  Indeed,  you  mistake  me. 

Mrs.  S.  No  matter,  leave  us. 

With.  Be  within  call,  Willis,  I  would 
speak  with  you  presently. 

Willis.  I  will,  sir. 

[Mrs.  SUBTLE  brings  a  chair  forward  for 
WITHERTON,  who  seats  himself.] 

With.  That  girl  is  a  favorite  of  mine, 
Mrs.  Subtle,  in  her  way — in  her  way,  I 
mean.  She  was  strongly  recommended  to 
me,  by  my  friend  Colonel  Hardy,  and  I 
am  sorry  you  have  conceived  so  strange 
an  antipathy  against  her. 


PAUL  PRY. 


381 


Mrs.  S.  And  I  am  surprised  you  are  so 
strongly  attached  to  her.  Do  you  know 
I  am  almost — I  had  nearly  said  a  foolish 
word — jealous  of  her. 

With.  Jealous!  Now,  Mrs.  Subtle,  you 
would  banter  me.  But  now  we  are  alone, 
and  secure  from  interruption,  tell  me 
what  it  is  you  would  consult  me  upon — 
once,  while  we  were  out,  you  were  on  the 
point  of  speaking,  when  we  were  intruded 
on  by  that  meddling  blockhead,  Mr.  Pry. 
Mrs.  S.  Oh,  'tis  nothing  sir,  a  trifle. 
With.  You  cannot  deceive  me;  some- 
thing sits  heavily  at  your  heart;  explain 
the  cause  of  it — you  know  me  for  your 
friend,  your  sincere  friend.  Come,  speak 
freely. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  then,  sir,  since  I  never 
act  in  any  important  matter,  but  by  your 
direction,  I  would  ask  your  advice  in  this, 
of  all  others,  the — most  important. 
With.  Goon. 
Mrs.  S.  Mr.  Grasp,  who  has  long  been 
attentive  to  me,  has  at  length  become 
importunate  for  my  decision  on  the  ques- 
tion of  marriage. 

With.  Marriage!  Take  a  chair,  Mrs. 
Subtle,  take  a  chair.  [She  sits. 

Mrs.  S.  Yes,  sir.  Hitherto  I  have  never 
distinctly  accepted,  nor  have  I  rejected 
the  offer  of  his  hand ;  wearied  at  length 
by  my  indecision,  he  has  this  morning 
insisted  on  knowing  my  intentions,  one 
way  or  the  other. 
With.  Well,  well. 

Mrs.  S.  It  is  a  serious  question;  my 
mind  is  still  unsettled;  my  heart,  alas! 
takes  no  part  in  the  question.  How 
would  you  advise  me,  sir? 

With.  Really,  Mrs.  Subtle,  I  was  so 
little  prepared  for  such  a  communication, 
that  I  hardly  know — Grasp  is  an  honest 
man — a  very  honest  man. 

Mrs.  S.  He  is  a  very  honest  man,  yet 
my  own  experience  has  taught  me,  that 
a  very  honest  man  may  be  a  very — very 
bad  husband.  Then,  although  I  allow 
Mr.  Grasp  to  be  a  very  well  meaning 

man — his  temper 

With.  That  is  none  of  the  best,  certainly. 
Mrs.  S.  His  manners  too — not  that  I 
believe  he  would  willingly  offend,  are 
offensive.  Even  you,  I  fear,  have  observed 
that,  for  he  has  frequently  addressed  you 
in  a  mode  which  my  affection — I  would 
say,  my  respect  for  you,  have  induced  me 
to  reprove. 

With.  Ke  does  lack  urbanity,  I  grant. 


Mrs.  S.  And  to  me,  that  is  intolerable, 
for,  notwithstanding  my  situation  here, 
I  can  never  forget  that  I  am  the  daughter 
of  a  gentleman.  Then  his  taste  and  hab- 
its differ  from  mine. 

With.  These  are  important  objections, 
Mrs.  Subtle,  considering  that  your  first 
husband  was  as  you  have  told  me. 

Mrs.  S.  Speak  not  to  me  of  him,  sir,  for 
that  reminds  me  of  one  of  the  bitterest 
periods  of  my  life;  yet,  spite  of  Mr.  Sub- 
tie's  ill  usage  of  me,  I  never  once  forgot 
the  duty  and  obedience  of  a  wife;  but  he 
was  young,  vain,  fickle,  and  I  am  too  late 
convinced  that  it  is  not  till  a  man  is 
somewhat  advanced  in  life — till  his  senti- 
ments and  habits  are  formed  and  fixed, 
that  he  can  thoroughly  appreciate  the 
value  of  a  wife's  affection,  or  so  regulate 
his  conduct,  as  to  insure  her  happiness, 
and  his  own. 

With.  That  is  a  very  sensible  remark, 
Mrs.  Subtle. 

Mrs.  S.  My  father  was  an  evidence  of 
the  truth  of  it,  sir.  My  father  was  nearly 
sixty  when  he  married. 

With.  Indeed!  your  own  father? 

Mrs.  S.  Aye,  sir,  and  he  lived  to  the 
good  old  age  of  eighty-seven.  But  he  was 
happy,  and  enjoyed  a  contented  mind. 
How  tenderly  my  poor  mother  loved  him. 

With.  What  was  her  age? 

Mrs.  S.  When  she  married  him,  about 
mine,  sir.  I  believe  it  was  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  picture  of  their  felicity,  so 
constantly  before  my  eyes,  that  confirmed 
my  natural  disposition  for  the  quiet  of 
domestic  life.  Ah,  had  I  been  fortunate 
in  the  selection  of  a  partner  I 

With  Much — everything,  depends  on 
that,  and  I  think  that  Grasp  is  not  alto- 
gether— he  is  not  at  all  the  husband  for 
you. 

Mrs.  S.  So  my  heart  tells  me,  sir ;  yet, 
when  I  quit  your  house,  would  you  have 
me  live  alone  ?  without  a  protector  ? 

With.  How  !  quit  my  house ! 

Mrs.  S.  Alas,  that  must,  I  whether  I  ac- 
:ept  his  proposals  or  not.  Yet  let  not 
;hat  distress  you,  sir,  for  I  doubt  not — I 
lope,  that  when  I  am  gone,  my  place  may 

supplied  by  some  one  equally  attentive 
to  your  comforts,  your  happiness. 

With.  Do  I  hear  aright?  Quit  my 
louse,  and  wherefore  ? 

Mrs  S.  J  hardly  know  in  what  words  to 
;ell  you ;  and,  after  all,  perhaps  you  will 
say  I  am  a  a  silly  woman,  to  regard  such 


382 


PAUL  PRY. 


idle  slander.  Who  can  control  the  tongue 
of  scandal  ?  My  care  of  you,  my  atten- 
tions, my  unceasing  assiduities,  become 
the  subject  of  remark ;  but  I  had  resolved 
not  to  mention  this  to  you ;  my  unwearied 
attention  to  you,  which  is  the  result  of 
mere  duty— of  friendship — perhaps  of  a 
sisterly  affection,  it  is  said  to  spring  from 
a  deeper — a  warmer  source 

With.  And  were  it  so,  dear  Mrs.  Subtle, 
are  we  accountable  to  a  meddling  world — 

Mrs.  S.  Ah,  sir,  you,  a  man,  strong  in 
the  rectitude  of  your  conduct,  master  of 
your  own  actions,  master  of  your  own  ac- 
tions I  say,  and  independent  of  the  world, 
may  set  at  naught  its  busy  slanders.  But 
I,  an  humble,  unprotected  woman — no, 
the  path  of  duty  lies  straight  before  me ; 
I  must  give  my  hand  where  I  feel  I  can- 
not bestow  my  heart,  and  for  ever  quit 
a  house  where  I  have  been  but  too  happy. 

With.  Nay,  by  heaven,  but  you  shall 
not;  must  your  happiness  be  sacrificed? 
mine  too  ?  Ay,  mine, 

Mrs.  S.  [Rises.}  Hold,  sir,  say  no  more. 
Do  not  prolong  a  delusion  which  I  am 
endeavoring  to  dispel.  If  I  have  unwarily 
betrayed  to  you  a  secret,  which  I  have 
scarcely  dared  to  trust  even  to  my  own 
thoughts ;  if  I  have  foolishly  mistaken 
the  kindness  of  a  friend,  for  a  more  tender 
sentiment,  forgive  my  presumption,  and 
forgive  her  who,  but  for  the  lowliness  of 
her  station,  might  as  an  affectionate  and 
devoted  wife,  have  administered  to  your 
happiness;  who,  conscious  of  her  own 
unworthiness,  must  soon  behold  you  for 
the  last  time. 

With.  Stay,  dearest  Mrs.  Subtle,  and 
listen  to  your  friend,  your  best  and  truest 
friend.  First  promise  me,  that  here  you 
will  remain. 

Mrs.  S.  But  you  have  not  yet  advised 
me  respecting  Mr.  Grasp's  proposal,  and  I 
have  promised  him  an  immediate  reply. 

With.  Attend  to  what  I  am  about  to 
say,  and  then,  dearest  Mrs.  Subtle,  let 
your  own  heart  dictate  your  choice. 

Mrs.  S.  \Aside.}  Tis  done ! 

With.  Were  I  longer  to  hesitate,  I 
should  be  negligent  of  my  own  happiness, 
and  unjust  towards  your  merits ;  for  if  an 
attachment,  long  and  severely  tried,  were 
not  of  itself  sufficient  to  warrant  me  in — 
[A  knock  at  the  door.] 

Mrs.  S.  As  WITHERTON  starts  up.] 
Curse  on  the  interruption,  when  but  ano- 
ther word  had  realised  my  hopes. 


Enter  PAUL  PRY. 

Pry.  Oh,  ha,  I  see,  billing  and  cooing, 
I  hope  I  don't  intrude  ? 

Mrs.  S.  You  do,  sir. 

Pry.  Well,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  came 
to  show  you  the  country  Chronicle ;  there 
is  something  in  it  I  thought  might  interest 
you ;  two  columns  full  about  a  prodigious 
gooseberry,  grown  by  Mrs.  Nettlebed  at 
the  Priory.  Most  curious  ;  shall  I  read  it 
to  you  ? 

With.  No,  you  are  very  good.  [Turn* 
up  impatiently.] 

Pry.  I  perceive  I  am  one  too  many. 
Well  now,  upon  my  life. [  Whisper t  her,] 
if  I  had  entertained  the  smallest  idea 

Mrs.  S.  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? 

Pry.  Bless  you,  I  see  things  with  half 
an  eye ;  but  never  fear  me,  I'm  as  close  as 
wax.  Now,  I  say,  Mrs.  Subtle,  between 
ourselves — it  shall  go  no  further,  there  t* 
something  in  the  wind,  eh  ? 

Mrs.  S.  I  don't  understand  you. 

Pry.  Well,  well,  you  are  right  to  be 
cautious ;  only  I  have  often  thought  to 
myself  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  both 
of  you,  he  is  rich — no  one  to  inherit  his 
fortune,  and,  by  all  accounts,  you  have 
been  very  kind  to  him,  eh  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Sir ! 

Pry.  I  mean  no  harm,  but  take  my  ad- 
vice; service  is  no  inheritance,  as  they 
say.  Do  you  look  to  number  one ;  take 
care  to  feather  your  nest.  You  are  still  a 
young  woman,  under  forty  I  should  think, 
thirty-eight  now — here,  or  thereabouts,  eh  ? 

Mrs.  S.  My  respect  for  Mr.  Witherton 
forbids  me  to  say  that  his  friend  is  im- 
pertinent. 

With.  This  intrusion  is  no  longer  to  be 
borne.  Have  you  any  particular  business 
with  me,  Sir? 

Pry.  Yes,  you  must  know,  I've  seen  a 
young  fellow  lurking  about  your  friend 
Hardy's  house,  and  I  suspect  there  is 
something  not  right  going  forward  in  his 
family. 

With.  That  is  his  business,  not  mine, 
sir. 

Pry.  True,  but  I  have  been  thinking 
that  as  you  are  his  friend,  it  would  be  but 
friendly  if  you  were  just  to  drop  in,  and 
talk  to  him  about  it. 

With.  That  is  my  business,  and  not 
yours. 

Pry.  I  don't  say  the  contrary,  but  at 
all  events,  I'm  determined  to  keep  watch 
over 


PAUL  PRY. 


With.  That  is  your  business,  therefore 
you  may  do  as  you  please :  yet  let  me 
suggest  to  you,  that  this  unhappy  pro- 
pensity of  yours  to  meddle  in  matters 
which  do  not  concern  you,  may  one 
day  or  other  produce  very  mischievous 
effects. 

Pry.  Now  I  take  that  unkindly ;  what 
interest  have  I  in  trying  to  do  a  good- 
natured  thing  ?  am  I  ever  a  gainer  by  it  ? 
But  I'll  make  a  vow  that  from  this  time 
forward  I'll  never  interfere.  Hush  I  there 
he  is  again  ;  will  you  do  me  a  favour  ? 
just  allow  me  to  go  out  this  way. 

With.  Any  way  out  you  please. 

Pry.  I'll  give  the  alarm,  and  if  I  let  him 
escape  this  time — Follow !  follow !  follow  1 

[Exit. 

HARRY  STANLEY  runs  on  at  the  back. 

Harry.  Confound  him !  the  same  offi- 
cious booby  again. 

Pry.  [  Without.]  Now,  my  lively  spark, 
I'll  have  you. 

Harry.  Egad,  you  shall  run  for  it  then. 
[Runs  off,  PRY  after  him. 

With.  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  all 
this  ?  That  busy  fellow's  interruption  has 
thrown  all  my  ideas  into  confusion. 

Mrs.  S.  Be  composed,  sir,  take  a  chair, 
and  let  us  resume 

Enter  GRASP  abruptly. 

Well,  what  is  it  you  want,  Mr.  Grasp  ? 

Grasp.  You ! 

With.  Mrs.  Subtle  is  engaged  just 
now. 

Grasp.  No  matter,  she  must  come  with 
me,  I  have  something  to  say  to  her. 

Mrs.  S.   I'll  come  to  you  presently. 

Grasp.  You  must  come  at  once.  I  am 
not  to  be  made  a  dupe — come,  Mr.  Willis 
is  waiting  to  see  you  in  the  Library,  sir — 
now,  Mrs.  Subtle,  if  you  please. 

With.  Return  quickly,  dear  Mrs.  Subtle- 
and  promise  nothing  till  you  have  again 
consulted  me. 

Mrs.  S.  I  will  obey  you,  sir ;  you  see  how 
easily  we  poor  weak  women  are  diverted 
from  our  better  resolutions. 

[Exit  WITHERTON. 

He  is  mine.  What  can  have  angered 
Grasp  ?  near  as  are  my  schemes  to  their 
completion,  yet  might  one  word  from  that 
man  destroy  them  all.  Has  he  overheard 
us?  does  he  suspect  what  is  my  project? 
I  must  contrive  still  to  evade  him,  till 
I  have  made  Witherton  securely  mine. 
Then  let  him  do  his  worst. 


SCENE  II— A  Boom  at  HARDY'S. — Cries 

without    of  "follow  /  follow  !  " — Enter 

ELIZA  and  PHEBE. 

Eliza.  Oh,  Phebe !  Phebe  I  what  can  be 
the  cause  of  all  this  confusion  ? 

Phebe.  Confusion,  indeed,  Miss,  one 
would  think  the  very  de — Old  Harry  had 
broke  loose. 

Eliza.  Old  Harry,  Phebe — I'm  very 
much  afraid  it's  young  Harry. 

Phebe.  You  see  now  the  consequences 
of  your  imprudence,  Miss. 

Eliza.  If  it  should  really  be  my  poor 
Harry,  and  my  'pa  should  discover  him. 

Phebe.  Mercy  on  us  all ;  and  now  that 
his  suspicions  are  awakened,  and  his 
anger  excited  by  this  morning's  adven- 
ture, he  will  be  less  tractable  than  ever. 
[  Cries  of  follow !  follow  I 

Enter  HARRY  STANLEY,  at  the  window. 

Harry.  Any  port  in  a  storm.  So  here 
I  am.  What,  my  sweet  little  Eliza  here  I 
this  is  beyond  my  hopes. 

Eliza.  Oh,  Mr.  Stanley,  how  could  you 
be  so  imprudent] 

Harry.  Now,  my  dear,  sweet,  pretty, 
little  Eliza,  don't  be  angry  with  me — 
allow  me  a  minute  to  recover  breath,  and 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  This  run  has 
been  a  breather. 

Phebe.  What  a  pretty  little  fellow  he  is  I 
I  should  have  no  objection  to  just  such 
another  little  lover  for  myself. 

Eliza.  But  tell  me  quickly,  how  came 
you  here  ? 

Harry.  By  no  very  smooth  path,  I  pro- 
mise you.  By  scaling  a  twelve  foot  wall 
leaping  across  a  canal,  climbing  an  apple 
tree,  and  so  in  at  the  first  floor  window. 

Eliza.  But  why  venture  to  come  into 
the  house  ? 

Harry.  Why?  once  over  the  garden 
wall,  egad,  I  had  no  time  to  choose :  my 
mamsuvre  was  detected  by  that  same 
prying  scoundrel,  who  prevented  our 
interview  this  morning.  Let  him  fall  in 
my  way,  and  I'll  snip  his  ears  for  him. 
He  gave  the  alarm,  and  in  an  instant 
every  servant  in  the  place,  to  the  very 
dairy  maid,  was  in  full  chase  of  me.  I 
flew  like  a  skiff  before  the  wind,  and 
cleared  the  canal  at  a  leap.  None  of  my 
pursuers  could  weather  that  point;  so 
rinding  myself  a  few  minutes  ahead  of 
them,  and  perceiving  that  windoly  open, 
I  made  all  sail  for  it  as  my  only  chance 
of  escape,  and  here  I  am. 


?84 


PAUL  PRY. 


Phebe.  You  have  escaped  with  a  ven- 
geance. Do  you  know,  sir,  where  you 
are? 

Harry.  In  the  presence  of  my  darling 
little  Eliza,  and  where  else  could  I  be  so 
happy? 

Eliza.  Did  you  hear  that,  Phebe  ?  * 

Phebe.  Pooh !  nonsense — we  are  all  on 
the  very  brink  of  ruin,  and  there  he  is 
quietly  talking  about  being  happy.  You 
must  instantly  quit  this  place — so  get  out 
how  you  can.  [Goes  up  to  the  window. 

Harry.  No,  no,  I  have  had  so  much 
trouble  to  get  in,  that  I'll  not  get  out 
again  till  I  have  explained  my  errand. 

Eliza.  What  Phebe  says  is  true,  if  my 
'pa  should  come — 

Phebe.  They  are  on  a  wrong  scent,  so 
you  are  safe  for  a  few  minutes,  but  speak 
quickly. 

Harry.  First  tell  me,  when  do  you  ex- 
pect your  cousin  Frank  ? 

Eliza.  Not  for  a  week. 

Harry.  That  will  be  too  late ;  as  Frank 
who  is  my  old  shipmate  and  friend,  would 
have  interceded  for  us  with  your  father. 

Phebe.  But  since  he  is  not  here,  what 
next  do  you  propose? 

Harry.  Boldly  to  ask  the  Colonel's  con- 
sent. 

Phebe.  Which  he  will  refuse. 

Harry.  So  I  expect,  and  I  am  prepared 
accordingly. — Now  I  have  a  most  impor- 
tant question  to  ask  you.  Pray,  ladies, 
are  you  fond  of  travelling? 

Eliza.  What  an  odd  question  I 

Harry.  I  have  just  seen  in  Doubledot's 
yard  the  prettiest  yellow  postchaise  in  the 
world.  [Puts  his  arm  round  their  waists. J 
It  will  just  hold  us  three  as  comfortably 
as  if  it  had  been  made  for  us.  We  clap 
four  horses  to  it,  visit  the  blacksmith,  get 
married,  and  then  let  our  'pas  unmarry 
us,  if  they  can. 

Eliza.  Lord !  Harry,  that  would  be  run- 
ning away,  and  I  must  not  think  of  such 
a  thing. 

Jrhebe.  Oh,  that  somebody  would  make 
me  such  an  offer  ! 

Harry.  Eunning  away!  look  at  me, 
I've  just  been  running  away,  and  I  am 
nothing  the  worse  for  it. 

Eliza.  You! 

Harry.  I  had  scarcely  arrived  at  my 
father's  house  when  the  old  gentleman 
told  me  of  some  dowdy  of  his  own  choos- 
ing, whom  he  intended  I  should  marry. 
I  ventured  a  respectful  remonstrance ;  het 


swore  I  should  marry  her :  if  I  do,  sir 
says  I,  I'll  be —  [PHEBE  stops  his  mouth.] 
So  I  cut  short  the  argument,  by  mounting 
a  horse  and  galloping  down  here. 

Phebe.  Then  I'd  advise  you  to  remount 
him  and  gallop  home  again,  for  my  young 
lady  is  in  a  precisely  similar  situation. 
The  Colonel  has  provided  a  husband  for 
her,  and 

Harry.  In  that  case  an  elopement  is  our 
only  resource,  and  if  our  dear  'pas  are  de- 
termined on  marriage,  we'll  force  them  to 
marry  one  another. 

Phebe.  That's  all  verypine;  but  you  must 
go;  so  take  the  opportunity  whilst  the 
coast  is  clear.  You  are  a  very  imprudent 
young  gentleman,  and  I  foresee  mischief, 
unless  I  take  the  management  of  this 
affair  into  my  own  hands.  If  you  would 
have  me  for  your  friend,  begone  at  once, 
and  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  serve, you. 

Harry.  You  are  a  good  little  girl,  and  if 
I  don't  contrive  to  find  you  a  husband 
too — [To  ELIZA.]  One  kiss,  and  I'm  gone. 
I  must  not  forget  my  little  Bridget — Abi- 
gail— what's  your  name  ?  [Kisses  PHEBE. 

Phebe.  Phebe!  Phebe  I — there,  sir,  that 
will  do. 

Eliza.  [Dragging  him  away]  There,  Phe- 
be says,  that  will  do ;  so  you  had  better 
go,  Harry. 

[As  he  is  going,  HARDY  speaks  without. 

Hardy.  Don't  leave  a  bush  or  bramble 
unsearched.  Let  loose  Jupiter  and  Bac- 
chus ;  and  whosoever  the  villain  is,  bring 
him  before  me,  dead  or  alive. 

Phebe.  There's  a  pretty  business !  The 
Colonel  is  coming — quick — jump  out  of 
the  window,  'tis  the  way  you  came  in. 

Harry.  But  coming  and  going  are  two 
different  things,  Mrs.  Phebe ;  no,  I'll  re- 
main here,  and  .declare  my  intentions. 

Eliza.  Oh,  no — I  wouldn't  have  my  'pa 
see  you  for  the  world. 

Phebe.  Here,  quick,  this  way. 

She  pushes  him  into  the  room  and  stands 
before  the  door. 

Eliza.  What  have  you  done  ?  Consider, 
that  is  my  room. 

Phebe.  No  matter,  Miss ;  we'll  conceal 
him  there  till  your  father  is  gone;  and 
then  I'll  contrive  to  get  him  away. 

Enter  HARDY  with  brace  of  pistols. 

Hardy.  [Speakiny  off.}  Stand  you  at  the 

staircase;   and  the  first  person   that  at- 

empts  to   pass  without   my  orders,  fire. 

This  time  he  shall  not  escape  me.    So, 


PAUL  PRY. 


SSS 


here  you  are— what  have  you  to  say  for 
yourself?    Which  of  you  is  the  culprit? 

Phebe.  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? 

Hardy.  But  I  perceive — there  she 
stands,  pale  and  trembling.  Come  hither, 
and  tell  me  who  he  is. 

Eliza.  Indeed,  'pa,  you  frighten  me  so, 
I  cannot  speak. 

Hardy.  Frightened !  How  dare  you  be 
frightened  when  your  tender,  kind  old 
father  speaks  to  you?  Zounds,  am  I 
Bluebeard,  or  the  Grand  Turk  ?  But  tell 
who  he  is,  I  say. 

Phebe.  Who,  sir  ? 

Hardy.  A  man  has  been  seen  to  come 
over  my  garden  wall. 

Phebe.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  and  is  that  all  ?  So 
for  that  the  whole  house  is  in  an  uproar ; 
as  if  the  orchard  had  never  been  robbed 
before. 

Hardy.  What,  at  noon-day  ? 

Phebe.  Why,  then,  sir,  'tis  some  visitor 
of  your  own,  perhaps. 

Hardy.  Would  any  visitor  of  mine  come 
scrambling  over  the  wall,  when  I  have  a 
door  to  my  house  ?  But  they'll  catch  him, 
and  then — Come  hither,  Phebe,  and  tell 
me  the  truth,  if  my  daughter  has  deceived 
me,  and  spare  me  the  mortification  of  ex- 
posing her  misconduct  in  the  presence  of 
every  menial  in  my  service. 

Eliza.  [Aside.]  Don't  betray  me,  Phebe. 

Phebe.  You  are  so  passionate,  sir,  that 

even  if  I  knew [Cries  of  follow  t  follow, 

and  noise  of  barking  of  dogs. 

Pry  [  Without  window,  in  flat.]  Would 
you  murder  me,  you  hard-hearted  mon- 
ster? 

Hardy.  They  have  him — they  have  him. 

Pry.  [  With  one  foot  at  the  window,  and 
speaking  off.  \    Don't  fire !  I'm  a  friend  of 
the  family,  I  tell  you.    Oh,  if  I  do  but  es- 
cape with  my  life !  [Hardy  points  pistol  at 
[Pry.  Pry  tumbles  in. 

Phebe.  Then  we  are  saved  again. 

Hardy.  So,  this  is  the  second  time  I 
have  you.  Now  what  rigmarole  story  can 
you  invent? 

Pry.  Let  me  go — there's  a  mistake — I'm 
not  the  man — I'm  your  friend.  I  was 
coming  this  way,  intending  to  drop  in, 
when — 

Hardy.  My  friend,  indeed  !  [Places 
pistols  on  table.]  How  dare  any  friend  of 
mine  drop  in  at  the  first  floor  window  ? 

Pry.  If  you  doubt  my  friendship,  see 
what  I  have   suffered  in  your    service. 
[Turns  about  and  shows  his  clothes  torn.] 
V 


Hardy.  Explain  yourself. 

Pry.  I  have  been  hunted  like  a  stag, 
and  nearly  sacrificed  like  a  heathen  to  the 
fury  of  Jupiter  and  Bacchus;  and  all 
owing  to  a  mistake.  I  saw  a  strange  man 
climb  over  your  wall ;  and  being  naturally 
anxious  to  know  what  he  could  want,  I 
followed  him,  gave  the  alarm,  and 

Phebe.  Why,  this  is  the  same  story  he 
told  us  this  morning,  sir. 

Hardy.  And  so  it  is. — Why  this  is  the 
same  story  you  told  me  this  morning. 
Harkee,  sir,  if  you  find  no  better  excuse 
for  your  extraordinary  conduct,  I  shall 
forget  you  are  my  neighbor,  act  in  my 
quality  of  magistrate,  and  commit  you  for 
the  trespass.  I  find  you  entering  my 
house  in  a  very  suspicious  manner 

Pry.  Well,  if  ever  I  do  a  good  natured 
turn  again. — Let  me  tell  you,  Colonel, 
you  are  treating  me  like  a  phoenix ;  a 
thing  I  am  not  used  to. 

Hardy.  What  do  you  mean  by  treating 
you  like  a  phoenix? 

Pry.  Tossing  me  out  of  the  frying-pan 
into  the  fire.  What  I  tell  you  is  true.  I 
gave  the  alarm,  but  the  fellow  was  so 
nimble  that  he  escaped ;  while  your  ser- 
vants, seeing  me  run  as  if  I  had  been  run- 
ning for  a  wager,  mistook  me  for  the  man, 
set  the  dogs  after  me,  and  in  short,  I  am 
well  off  to  have  escaped  with  my  life. 

Hardy.  If  this  is  true,  what  has  become 
of  the  other  ?  the  gates  are  closed,  and  — 

Pry.  He's  safe  enough,  I'll  answer  for 
it.  Though  I  could  not  overtake  htm,  I 
never  lost  sight  of  him.  [Observing  a 
signal  made  by  PHEBE.]  O  ho  I  that  ex- 
plains the  mystery,  some  swain  of  Mrs. 
Phebe's. 

Hardy.  What  has  become  of  him,  I 
say?  I'll  not  be  trifled  with — you  are  the 
only  trespasser,  I  discover,  and  you  I  will 
commit,  unless 

Pry.  Oh,  if  that's  the  case,  you  need 
not  nod  and  wink  at  me,  ladies ;  the  mat- 
ter is  growing  serious,  and  I  have  already 
suffered  sufficiently.  He's  here,  Colonel, 
I  saw  him  get  in  at  that  window. 

Phebe.  On,  the  wretch !  a  likely  story, 
a  man  get  in  at  that  window  and  we  not 
see  him ;  why  we  have  not  been  out  of 
the  room  this  half-hour,  have  we,  Miss  ? 

Hardy.  Do  you  hear  that  ?  a  likely 
story  indeed !  If  you  saw  him,  describe 
him. 

Pry.  Describe  him !  how  can  I  describe 
him  ?  I  tell  you  he  was  running  like  a 

26 


386 


PAUL  PRY. 


grayhound ;  he  didn't  wait  for  me  to  take 
his  portrait.  He  got  up  at  that  window, 
and  I'll  swear  he  didn't  get  down  again, 
BO  here  he  must  be.  [  Walks  up  and  round 
the  room,  and  lookt  under  sofa  and  table. 

Phebe.  It  is  a  pity,  Mr.  Pry,  you  have 
no  business  of  your  own  to  employ  you. 
Ay,  that's  right,  look  about  here.  You 
had  better  search  for  him  in  my  young 
lady's  reticule.  [Snatches  reticule  from 
ELIZA. 

Pry.  Stand  aside,  Mrs.  Phebe,  and  let 
me 

Phebe.  Why,  you  abominable  person — 
that  is  Miss  Eliza's  room ;  how  dare  you 
open  the  door? — [Throwing  him  round  by 
collar. 

Hardy.  You  abominable  person!  how 
dare  you  open  my  daughter's  room  door  ? 
[Throwing  him  round  by  collar. 

Pry.  If  there's  no  one  concealed  there, 
why  object? 

Hardy.  True,  if  there's  no  one  concealed 
there,  why  object  ? 

Phebe.  I  wonder,  sir,  you  allow  of  such 
an  insinuation.  [Places  herself  at  the 
door.]  No  one  shall  enter  this  room ;  we 
stand  here  upon  our  honor;  and  if  you 
suspect  my  young  lady's,  what  is  to  be- 
come of  mine,  I  should  like  to  know? 

Pry.  Can't  possibly  say;  but  I  would 
advise  you  to  look  after  it,  for  I  protest — 
there  he  is. 

Hardy.  [Endeavoring  to  suppress  his 
anger.]  Sir,  you  are  impertinent.  It  can- 
not be,  and  I  desire  you  will  quit  my 
house.  Simon  1  [Goes  up  to  the  door. 

Enter  SlMON. 

Simon  ;  open  the  door  for  Mr.  Pry. 

Phebe.  Simon ;  you  are  to  open  the  door 
for  Mr.  Pry. 

Pry.  Oh  I  I  dare  say  Simon  hears.  I 
wish  you  good  morning — I  expected  to 
be  asked  to  dinner  for  this  at  least — this 
is  the  most  mysterious — I  say,  Simon ! 

\Exit,  whispering  SlMON. 

Hardy.  [  Who  has  taken  a  brace  of  pis- 
tols from  a  case  in  the  table.]  I  would  not 
have  him  appear  in  the  presence  of  that 
busy  fool ;  but  now,  whoever  he  is,  he 
shall  answer  this  outrage  to  me. 

Eliza.  Oh,  'pa,  for  heaven's  sake,  I'll 
tell  you  the  truth. 

Phebe.  Yes,  sir,  we  will  tell  you. 
[Aside.]  What  shall  I  say  ? 

Hardy.  Tell  me  at  once,  hussy — is 
there  a  man  in  the  room  ? 


Phebe.  Why  then,  sir,  there  is  a  sort  of 
a  young  man,  to  be  sure — but 

Hardy.  But  what? 

Phebe.  But  don't  be  angry,  for  he  is  the 
prettiest  little  fellow  you  ever  saw. 

Hardy.  A  little  fellow  ?  A  man  is  con- 
cealed in  my  house,  and  because  he  hap- 
pens not  to  be  the  Irish  giant,  I  must  not 
be  angry.  Oh  !  that  my  nephew,  Frank, 
were  at  home  :  but  I'm  still  young  enough 

4-/-v 

Phebe.  Stay,  sir,  stay — [Aside.]  Any 
thing  to  gain  time,  and  prevent  murder. 
You  have  guessed  it,  it  is  your  nephew, 
Mr.  Frank. 

Hardy.  What,  Frank  ?  my  boy,  Frank  ? 

Phebe.  Yes,  sir,  arrived  a  week  earlier 
than  was  expected.  We,  Miss  Eliza  and 
I,  sir — we  were  in  the  secret,  and  had 
planned  a  little  surprise  for  you,  but  that 
eternal  Mr.  Pry  spoiled  it. 

Hardy.  [Places  pistols  on  the  table.]  Oh, 
you  wicked  little  rebels,  to  cause  me  all 
this  uneasiness — but  let  me  see  the  dear 
boy — let  me 

Phebe.  Stop,  sir,  I'll  just  inform  him 
that 

Hardy.  Don't  detain  me  an  instant. 
[Going  towards  the  door.]  What,  Frank, 
come  to  your  old  uncle,  you  dog ;  why 
zounds !  what  is  he  at  now  ?  scarcely  is 
he  in  at  one  window,  but  he  is  preparing 
to  jump  out  at  another.  [Exit. 

Eliza.  Phebe,  what  have  you  done  ?  my 
'pa  must  soon  detect  the  imposture,  and 
then 

Phebe.  Lord,  Miss,  what  would  have 
been  the  consequence  if  the  Colonel,  in 
that  storming  passion,  and  with  pistols  in 
his  hand,  had  been  told  the  truth.  We 
may  yet  get  your  Harry  safe  out  of  the 
house,  and  then — hush  ! 

Enter  HARDY,  pulling  in  HARRY  STAN- 
LEY. 

Hardy.  Come,  Frank,  an  end  to  this 
foolery.  Phebe  has  explained  it  all  to 
me :  I'm  devilish  glad  to  see  you,  and 
that  is  worth  all  the  surprises  in  the 
world. 

Harry.  Sir — I — what  is  the  meaning  of 
this? 

Phebe.  We  have  told  your  unexpected 
arrival,  Mr.  Frank  Hardy. 

Harry,  [Aside.]  Oho !  my  uncle ;  'gad, 
then,  I'll  soon  make  myself  one  of  the 
family. — [Shakes  hands  very  heartily  with 
HARDY. 


PAUL  PRY. 


88? 


Hardy.  But  let  me  look  at  you,  you 
rogue;  I  have  not  seen  you  since  you 
were  a  mere  urchin.  As  Phebe  says,  he 
is  a  pretty  little  fellow,  But  I  say,  Frank, 
you  don't  take  after  the  family.  Your 
father  was  a  tall  man :  all  tall  men  in  our 
family. 

Harry.  Why,  I  am  not  positively  a 
giant,  uncle ;  but  what  does  that  signify  ? 
Nelson  was  a  little  fellow  like  myself — so 
not  an  inch  taller  will  I  grow. 

Hardy.  Ah,  ha,  you  are  a  wag.  But 
tell  me  Frank,  when  you  found  yourself 
pursued,  and  in  danger  of  a  drubbing 
from  my  servants,  why  didn't  you  at  once 
discover  yourself  to  be  my  nephew  ? 

Harry.  Eh — to  say  the  truth,  that  nev- 
er once  occurred  to  me. 

Hardy.  Well,  your  secret  was  in  good 
hands  with  the  girls.  I  was  in  a  thun- 
dering passion  to  be  sure — your  poor 
cousin  has  scarcely  yet  recovered  from 
her  agitation, 

Harry.  Ah,  sir,  I  know  not  how  I  shall 
atone  to  my  cousin  for  the  embarrassment 
my  thoughtlessness  has  occasioned  her. 

Eliza.  I'll  never,  never  forgive  you. 

Hardy.  What's  that  I  hear?  when  I 
have  forgiven  his  wild  sailor  prank,  how 

dare  any  body Go,  Frank,  give  your 

cousin  a  kiss,  or  I'll  storm  the  house  about 
your  ears. 

Harry.  Not  through  any  disobedience 
of  mine,  uncle. 

[Grosses,  and  kisses  ELIZA. 

Eliza.  Ha'  done,  Mr.  Stan — ha'  done, 
cousin,  that  will  do.  [Aside.]  I'm  glad 
he  is  obedient  to  'pa,  though. 

Phebe.  [  Wiping  her  lip-tj]  My  master  is 
right,  since  he  is  satisfied,  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  any  one  else  should  be  angry. 

Harry.  And  you  too,  my  pretty  Phebe : 
your  lips  are  as  full  of  forgiveness  as  mine 
are  of  repentance,  I'll  answer  for  it.  [ Kiss- 
es PHEBE.] 

Hardy.  Gome,  cosie,  Frank,  you  are  for- 
given. L4sirfe.l  I  must  look  close  after  the 
young  dog,  or  I  foresee  we  shall  have  him 
asking  pardon  of  all  the  maids  in  the 
house.  Now,  Frank — [Frank  crosses  to 
HAKDY.]  I  have  news  for  you.  Eliza  is 
soon  to  be  married. 

Harry.  Married,  sir? 

Hardy.  Married,  ay,  married.  I  was  re- 
solved to  defer  the  ceremony  till  your  re- 
turn. So  now  you  are  here • 

Harry.  That  was  very  kind ;  and  when- 
ever Eliza  marries,  you  may  be  sure  I  will 


be  at  the  wedding.    And  pray,  sir,  who  is 
the  happy  man  ? 

Hardy.  What  is  that  to  you  ?  I  know, 
and  that  is  sufficient  for  all  parties. 

Harry.  Certainly,  sir !  but  pray,  does  my 
cousin  love  him  ? 

Hardy.  No,  but  she  may  if  she  likes. 
I'm  not  one  of  those  tyrannical  fathers 
who  would  control  the  affections  of  their 
children.  No,  no,  I  leave  my  daughter 
sole  mistress  of  her  inclinations;  free 
either  to  love  her  husband,  or  to  leave  it 
alone,  as  she  thinks  best 

Harry.  How  indulgent  a  parent.  Now, 
suppose,  sir,  I  should  object  to  your  ar- 
rangement ? 

Hardy.  You  object,  you  jackanapes! 
Harkee,  it  is  rather  the  soonest  for  you  and 
I  to  quarrel — now,  that  we  may  remain 
friends,  you  will  please  to  recollect,  that 
although  I  am  willing  to  listen  to  reason, 
argument,  and  advice,  it  must  proceed 
from  those  who  have  the  good  sense  to  be 
exactly  of  my  way  of  thinking.  But,  if 
any  one  dare  contradict  or  oppose  me,  I — • 
no — I  am  not  like  my  poor  friend  Wither- 
ton,  I  am  lord,  master,  and  sovereign  arbi- 
ter in  my  own  family. 

Harry.  [To  ELIZA,  aside.]  Then  our 
only  hope  is  the  yellow  post-chaise. 

Hardy.  But  come,  Frank,  your  flying 
leaps  must  have  given  you  an  appetite ; 
so  follow  me  and  take  a  snack. 

Harry.    I'll    follow    you,    sir. 

[Exit  HARDY. 

My  dear  Phebe,  what  could  induce  you 
to  risk  such  an  imposition  upon  the 
Colonel  ?  we  cannot  long  escape  detection. 

Phebe.  As  you  said,  sir,  when  you  came 
in  at  the  window,  "Any  port  in  a  storm." 
And  such  a  storm  as  we  should  have  had  if 
you  had  been  abruptly  discovered  in  your 
own  character 

Harry.  Well,  here  I  am  installed  as  your 
cousin  :  it  will  be  very  pleasant  as  long  as 
it  lasts ;  but  I  fear  we  shall  pay  dearly  for 
it  in  the  end. 

Eliza.  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  conse- 
quences. Harry,  what  colour  did  you  say 
was  Mr.  Doubledot's  post-chaise  ? 

Harry.  The  prettiest  runaway  colour 
imaginable — will  you  go  and  look  at  it  T 

Phebe.  Nonsense,  nonsense,  we  must  do 
nothing  rash.  Your  cousin,  the  real  Mr. 
Frank  Hardy,  will  not  be  here  for  a  week, 
so  we  have  plenty  of  time  for  considera- 
tion. Why,  I  declare,  here  is  Mr.  Pry 
again  I  [PKY  appears  at  the  door. 


S88 


PAUL  PRY. 


Pry.  There  he  is.  A  most  extraordinar 
circumstance.  The  letter  is  a  good  excus 
for  my  return.  [Aside 

Eliza.  Why  he  is  making  signs  at  me. 
Harry.  The  devil  he  is ;  he  shall  answe 
that  to  me.    What  do  you  want,  sir  ? 
Pry.  Nothing. 
Harry.  Lookye,  Mr.  Scout.     I  owe  you 
a  round  dozen  for  sailing  in  chase  of  me 
this  morning:  now,  explain  the  signal 
you  were  hanging  out  to  my  own  dear 
little — to  my  cousin,  Miss  Hardy — or — 

Pry.  Your  cousin?   So  then  you  are  th 
nephew  from  sea,  after  all.    My  dear  sir 
you  are  welcome  to  England. 
Harry.  Come,  sir,  no  evasion ;  explain 
or  overboard  you  go. 

|  Pointing  to  the  window 
Pry.  Holloa !  well,  this  comes  of  doing 
a  civil  thing. 

Harry.  Come,  come,  sir,  be  quick,  or 
you'll  find  me  as  good  as  my  word. 

Pry.  There  then,  since  you  will  have  it. 
— [Gives  ELIZA  a  letter.]  I  intended  to 
give  it  to  you  mysteriously;  but  hang  me 
if  I  ever  do  a  good  natured  thing  again. 
Eliza.  [Looking  at  it.]  There  was  no 
need  of  mystery,  sir.  [To  HARRY.]  It  is 

from  my  cousin  Frank  but how  came 

this  letter  in  your  possession?    It  ought 
to  have  been  delivered  by  the  postman. 

Pry.  No  matter — I  am  always  in  the 
wrong. 

Phebe.  But  how  came  you  by  it  all  ? 
Pry.  Because,  &c. 
Eliza.  Why,  it  is  a  week  old. 
Pry.  That  it  is,  because  I  promiscuous- 
ly forgot  it.    Because  I  am  a  good  na- 
tured fool,  and  do  all  I  can  to  oolige.    I 
met  the  postman  the  other  day,  and  as  I 
always  make  it  a  rule  to  inquire  who  has 
letters,  I  found  there  was  one  for  you  ,-- 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  but  civil  if  I 
brought  it  to  you. 

Phebe.  Where  the  deuce  was  the  civili- 
ty of  your  doing  what  the  postman  must 
have  done  ? 

Pry.  Where  ?  why  he  had  his  rounds 
to  go  ;  so  that  Miss  Eliza  would  have  her 
letter  five  minutes  earlier  than  by  waiting 
for  him,  if  it  had  not  slipped  my  memory 
for  a  week. 

Eliza.  [  Who  has  been  reading  the  letter.] 
Heavens !  it  is  all  over  with  us,  Phebe  ; 
my  cousin  Frank  will  really  be  here  to- 
day. This  letter  was  to  apprise  us  of  his 
arrival  a  week  sooner  than  we  expected. 
Phebe.  There !  now  is  our  only  hope, 


which  was  in  leisure  for  deliberation,  de- 
stroyed— and  through  his  interference 
again.  If  he  had  not  kept  that  letter  in 
his  pocket  for  a  week,  we  should  have 
been  prepared  for  your  cousin's  arrival: 
and  our  present  difficulty,  at  least,  would 
have  been  prevented. 

Enter  SIMON. 

Simon.  [To  HARRY.]  My  master  waits 
for  you,  sir,  and  is  growing  impatient. 

Harry.  I'll  come.  Let  us  go  to  the 
Colonel.  I'll  devise  some  excuse  for 
leaving  him — intercept  Frank  on  his  way 
hither — enlist  him  in  our  cause — and  then 
throw  ourselves  on  your  father's  mercy. 

Phebe.  I  wish  you  joy  of  his  mercy 
when  he  discovers  the  trick  we  have 
played  him. 

Eliza.  Mr.  Pry,  if  you  did  but  know — 

Phebe.  [Interrupting  her.]  Nothing. — 
Simon,  Mr.  Pry  is  waiting  till  you  open 
the  door  for  him  again. 

Harry.  And  Mr.  Pry  may  consider 
himself  fortunate — [Pointing  to  the  win- 
dow,] that  I  have  not  spared  you  that 
trouble,  Simon. 

[Exeunt  HARRY,  ELIZA  and  PHEBE.] 

Pry.  Well,  I  have  done  my  utmost  to 
serve  this  worthy  family  ;  and  all  I  have 

gained  by  it  is So,  Simon,  the  young 

spark  turns  out  to  be  your  master's  neph- 
ew, after  all  ? 

Simon.  [Pointing  off.]  Now,  sir,  if  you 
please. 

Pry.  He  intends  that  as  a  hint,  I  sup- 
pose. Well,  that  letter  appeared  to  per- 
)lex  them.  I  shan't  be  able  to  rest  till  I 
lave  come  to  the  rights  of  it.  Ecod ! 
:'ll  go  down  to  Doubledot's,  and  just  in- 
[uire  whether  he  happens  to  know  any 
hing  about  it.  [Exit  SIMON  and  PRY. 

END  OP  ACT  II. 


ACT  III. 

ICENE  I. — A  Room  at  DOUBLEDOT'S. — 
PAUL  PRY  discovered,  dangling  a  news- 
paper, and  at  intervals,  during  his  speech, 
he  examines  the  books  and  different  arti- 
cles about  the  room. 

Pry.  Well,  Doubledot  does  not  return. 
)ut,  out,  from  morning  till  night.  What 
an  he  have  to  do  out  ?  No  wonder  the 
reen  Dragon  carries  all  before  it — but  if 
nen  won't  attend  to  their  business. — 
Counts  a  score.]  Two  and  twenty.  Upon 


PAUL  PRY. 


389 


my  life,  it  is  very  discreditable  to  run 
such  a  score  at  a  public  house : — who  can 
it  be  ?  marked  with  an  S — s.  I'll  lay  my 
life  it  is  Mrs.  Sims — that  woman  owes 
money  at  every  shop  in  the  village. 

DOUBLEDOT  speaks  without. 
Doub.  This  way,  sir,  if  you  please. 
Pry.  Oh,  at  last.     A  traveller  with  him 
— I  wonder  who  he  is. 

Enter  DOUBLEDOT  and  FRANK  HARDY. 

Doub.  [  Very  obsequiously  at  first,  but 
gradually  relaxing  in  his  civility.]  This 
way,  sir — will  you  please  to  take  any 
thing  after  your  journey  ? 

frank.  No,  nothing. 

Doub.  Will  you  order  your  dinner  now, 
sir? 

frank.  I  shall  not  dine  here.  Let  my 
luggage  be  brought  into  the  house,  and 
remain  here  for  the  present.  [Sits  at  table. 

Doub.  Ah !  a  precious  customer.  A 
glass  of  water  and  a  tooth-pick.  [Aside. 

Pry.  I  say,  Doubledot — a  good  quantity 
of  luggage  for  one  person.  He  is  alone- 
Do  you  happen  to  know  who  he  is  ? 

Double.  No — but  you  very  soon  will. 
I'll  answer  for  it.  [Exit. 

frank.  Now  to  proceed  to  my  old 
uncle's.  After  an  absence  of  so  many 
years,  I  shall  scarcely  be  recognized  by 
him.  As  for  Eliza,  who  was  a  mere  child 
at  the  period  of  my  departure 

Pry.  [  Who  has  seated  himself  at  table 
and  taken  up  a  newspaper.]  Pleasant 
journey,  sir? 

Frank.  Very  pleasant,  sir- 

Pry.  From  London,  sir? 

Prank.  No,  sir. 

Fry.  O,  not  from  London.  Stay  long 
.In  these  parts,  sir  ? 

Frank.  Quite  uncertain,  sir.  A  tolerably 
inquisitive  fellow,  this. 

Pry.  [Aside.]  Shy — don't  like  him — 
something  mysterious  about  him.  I  a 
determined  to  find  out  who  he  is. — B  - 
pardon,  sir,  if  I'm  not  mistaken  your 
name  is — a 

Frank.  You  are  right,  sir,  Snooks.  Now, 
sir,  allow  me  to  ask  you  a  question.  Is  it 
far  hence  to  Colonel  Hardy's  ? 

Pry.  Oh,  you  know  him.  Do  you  hap- 
pen to  know  his  nephew,  who  has  just 
come  from  sea  ? 

Frank.  Come — coming,  you  mean. 

Pry.  Come,  I  tell  you.  He  arrived  this 
morning. 


Frank.  What,  his  nephew,  Frank  Hardy? 

Pry.  The  same.  I  saw  him  with  my 
own  eyes.  Come  in  a  very  odd  way  too. 
[Aside.]  The  intelligence  appears  to  per- 
plex him. 

Frank.  [Aside.]  What  can  this  mean  ? 
a  person  there  assuming  my  name  !  doubt- 
less some  piece  of  roguery  is  intended, 
which  my  timely  arrival  may  prevent. 
I'll  find  some  future  pretence  for  visiting 
the  family  as  a  stranger,  and  observe  what 
is  going  forward  before  I  declare  myself. 

Pry.  [Aside]  An  adventurer? 

Frank.  The  Colonel,  I  believe,  sir,  en- 
joys a  reputation  for  hospitality.  Do  you 
imagine  he  would  refuse  the  visit  of 
a  stranger? — a  gentleman  travelling  for 
his  pleasure,  who  wishes  to  be  favoured 
with  a  view  of  his  grounds — his  pictures. 

Pry.  [Hesitating.]  No,  sir. — [Aside.]  A 
travelling  gentleman — the  case  is  clear. 

Frank.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost,  sir. 
I  must  be  plain  with  you.  It  is  my  inten- 
tion to  pay  Colonel  Hardy  a  visit ;  the 
object  of  that  visit  is  important,  and  that 
it  may  succeed,  the  utmost  secrecy  and 
caution  are  requisite. 

Pry.  Indeed.  [Aside.]  Very  cool,  upon 
my  word. 

Frank.  To  use  your  own  expression, 
"  beg  pardon  if  I  am  mistaken  " — [Shaking 
his  cane  at  Pry] — but  you  appear  to  me  to 
be  one  of  those  good-natured,  inquisitive, 
officious  persons,  who  abound  in  such 
places  as  this.  Now  if  you  mention  to 
any  soul  breathing  that  you  have  seen  me, 
you  may  have  cause  to  repent  your  indis- 
cretion. [Exit. 

Pry.  Sir,  yours.  Not  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  what  sort  of  a  gentleman  he  is.  Yet 
he  looks  like  a  gentleman — but  what  of 
that?  every  pickpocket  now-a-days  is  de- 
scribed as  a  youth  of  prepossesssing 
appearance,  and  every  disorderly  woman 
taken  before  a  magistrate,  is  sure  to  be 
young  and  interesting.  Now,  what  ought 
I  to  do  in  this  case  ?  I  have  to  interfere 
with  other  people's  business.  Yet,  in  a 
matter  like  this — I'll  take  a  short  cut  to 
the  house  beforehand  with  the  travelling 
gentleman,  put  the  Colonel  on  his  guard, 
and  for  once  force  him  to  acknowledge 
the  value  of  my  service.  [ Exit. 

SCENE  II. — At  HARDY'S.— Same  as  in  Act 
IT.  —  Enter    HARDY,    MARIAN,    and 
WILLIS. 
Hardy.  What !  marry  his  housekeeper  J 


890 


PAUL  PRY. 


marry  mother  Subtle  1  The  old  fool!  The 
old  dotard  1  Oh,  that  I  were  his  father  for 
one  quarter  of  an  hour,  that  I  might  enjoy 
the  paternal  gratification  of  breaking  every 
bone  in  his  body. 

Willis.  Fortunately  the  evil  is  not  yet 
accomplished,  and  your  interference  may 
prevent  it. 

Hardy.  But  how  did  you  learn  this  ? 

Willis.  My  suspicions  long  existing  of 
such  an  intention,  were  confirmed  by  a 
desperate  altercation  between  Grasp  and 
Mrs.  Subtle,  which  I  have  just  had  the 
good  fortune  to  overhear.  Grasp  having 
detected  her  schemes  upon  my  uncle,  and 
enraged  at  her  duplicity  towards  himself, 
threatened,  even  at  the  peril  of  his  own 
ruin,  to  expose  the  intrigues  she  had  so 
long  carried  on  against  me.  Mrs.  Subtle, 
presuming  on  her  strong  influence  over 
Mr.  Witherton,  scoffed  at  his  menaces, 
dared  him  to  do  his  worst,  and  defied  him 
to  the  proof  of  his  accusation,  till  Grasp 
hinting  at  certain  letters  which  unknown 
to  her  he  had  preserved,  she  instantly 
moderated  her  haughty  tone,  promised 
compliance  with  any  arrangement  he 
might  propose,  and  once  more  I  believe 
they  are  friends. 

Hardy.  Friends !  accomplices  you  mean. 
But  let  me  see,  what's  to  be  done?  First 
do  you  return,  both  of  you,  and 

Marian.  I  wish  that  could  be  avoided. 
Mrs.  Subtle  already  assumes  the  mistress, 
and  has  expressed  her  determination  to 
dismiss  me,  and 

Hardy.  That  will  do.  You  shall  take 
her  at  her  word.  You  shall  remain  con- 
cealed here  for  awhile ;  egad,  and  so  shall 
you,  Somers. 

Willis.  To  what  purpose,  sir? 

Hardy.  Leave  it  to  me.  'Tis  here,  'tis 
here  [Striking  his  forehead.]  Go  in  my 
study ;  there  you  will  be  free  from  obser- 
vation: no  one  dares  go  there  without 
my  leave.  I'll  come  to  you  presently, 
and  dictate  a  letter  you  shall  send  to 
Witherton,  which,  if  it  does  not  bring 
him  to  his  senses,  he  is  incorrigible. 

Willis.  How  shall  we  thank  you  for  the 
interest  you  take  in  our  behalf? 

Hardy.  By  leaving  me  to  myself  for  a 
few  minutes.  I  have  my  hands  full  of 
business  already.  Here  is  a  letter  I  have 
just  received  from  an  old  friend,  relative 
to  a  runaway  son  of  his !  then  there's  my 
nephew,  Frank,  who  is  returned.  But 
go,  go — if  my  daughter,  or  her  chattering 


maid,  should  see  you  here  together,  1 
would  not  give  you  five  minutes  purchase 
for  your  secret. 

Marian.  We  will  act  implicitly  by  your 
advice,  sir. 

Hardy.  Do  so,  and  I  will  yet  blow  all 
Mrs.  Subtle's  schemes — no  matter  where. 
[Exit  MARIAN  and  WILLIS.]  Now  just 
let  me  look  at  old  Stanley's  letter  again, 
before  I  communicate  its  contents  to  my 
nephew.  [Reads.]  "  My  boy  Harry,  who 
is  a  hair-brained,  harem-scarem  fellow, 
mounted  horse,  and  galloped  away,  the 
moment  I  mentioned  a  wife  for  him  of 
my  choosing.  He  has  been  met  on  the 
road  towards  your  place,  and  I  suspect 
that,  notwithstanding  our  secrecy,  he  has 
discovered  who  the  girl  is,  and  has  a  mind 
to  see  her  before  he  positively  rejects  her. 
Should  this  be  the  case,  and  he  fall  in 
your  way,  pray  do  you  humour  his  in- 
cognito, for  no  doubt  he  has  adopted  one, 
and  detain  him  till  my  arrival,  which 
will  speedily  follow  your  receipt  of  this." 
Ah,  this  is  very  pretty,  but  what  right 
has  any  man  to  come  and  look  at  my 
daughter :  to  take  her,  or  leave  her,  as  he 
would  a  horse?  My  Lizzy  is  a  wife  for 
an  emperor;  I  know  it,  that's  enough, 
and  I  won't  allow  any  man  to — [Calls  out 
of  window.]  Here,  you  Frank,  I  want 
you — [FRAHK  within.] — Coming  sir! 
Coming  sir,  then  why  the  devil  don't  you 
come.  There,  he  is,  tied  to  the  woman's 
apron  strings.  Hang  me,  if  I  have  been 
able  to  keep  him  with  me,  during  three 
consecutive  quarters  of  a  minute  since 
he  has  been  here. 

Enter  HARRY  STANLEY,  ELIZA  and 
PHEBE,  hanging  on  each  arm. 

Harry.  Did  you  call  me,  sir? 

Hardy.  Yes,  but  I  didn't  call  all  three 
of  you.  Yet  here  you  go  about  with  your 
heads  together,  like  three  conspirators,  as 
if  you  were  hatching  another  gunpowder 
treason. 

Harry.  Can  you  be  surprised  at  my 
preferring  the  company  of  my  dear,  little 
— cousin,  to  yours,  sir?  But  what  have 
you  to  say  to  me,  sir  ? 

Hardy.  Something  that  touches  the 
honour  of  us  all-  Yours,  yours — and  [  Tk 
PHEBE.]  even  yours,  if  you  have  any  re- 
spect for  your  mistress. 

Harry.  [Aside.]  Am  I  discovered? 

Hardy.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  a 
certain  person  is  in  this  neighborhood, 


PAUL  PEY. 


391 


cruising  under  false  colours,  as  you  would 
call  it. 

Harry.  Ah,  sir,  then  I  suppose  you  ex- 
pect that  he  should  face  to  the  righl 
about,  and  beat  a  retreat,  as  you  would 
call  it. 

Hardy.  No,  you  jackanapes,  I  neither 
expect  nor  intend  any  such  thing.  I  in- 
tend to  humour  the  deception,  and  then 
take  him  by  surprise. 

Phebe.  [Aside.}  You  have  hut  one 
chance  for  it,  sir,  confess  at  once — confess. 

Harry.  Our  only  hope,  I  believe.  Then 
what  if  he  should  confess  his  error,  ask 

Eardon   for  his  indiscretion,  and  throw 
imself  on  your  mercy. 
Hardy.  Why  then  I  should  say,  take 
my  daughter,  and  may  you  be  happy  to- 
gether. 

Harry.  Would  you,  sir,  why  then — 
[Taking  ELIZA  by  the  hand  and  turning 
towards  him. 

Hardy.  But  not  so  fast.  You  don't 
know  your  uncle,  yet,  Frank.  I'll  first 

Sunish  him  for  his  impertinence.  How 
are  he,  when  it  is  settled  that  he  shall 
marry  my  Lizzy,  presume  to  have  a  choice 
of  his  own  ?  And  because  he  has  not  yet 
seen  her,  how  dare  he 

Eliza.  Not  yet  seen  me !  who  are  you 
talking  about,  'pa? 

Hardy.  Your  intended  husband  to  be 
sure,  Mr —  [SiMON  enters. 

Simon.  Mr.  Paul  Pry. 

Hardy.  Confound  Mr.  Paul  Pry  I  Eter- 
nally that  Mr.  Paul  Pry.  My  compli- 
ments, and  I  am  not  at  home.  [Exit  SI- 
MON.] I  guess  what  his  important  busi- 
ness is  likely  to  be.  He  comes  to  look 
for  a  shoestring,  or  tell  me  some  nonsen- 
sical event  that  has  occurred  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

Pi-y.  [  Without.]  Pooh,  pooh,  this  is  no 
time  for  ceremony,  so  see  him  I  must. 

Phebe  I  am  superstitious  about  that 
Mr.  Pry.  A  winding-sheet  in  the  candle, 
or  spilling  the  salt,  is  less  ominous  of  evil, 
than  the  approach  of  that  man. 

Enter  PAUL  PRY. 

Pry.  Colonel,  you  must  pardon  the  in- 
trusion, but  I  come  to  tell  you 

Hardy.  Well,  be  quick,  Whose  cat  in 
the  village  has  kittened  ?  How  many 
blind  puppies  have  your  neighbors 
irowned?  Come,  inflict  upon  me  the  full 
and  true  uarticulars,  and  make  an  end  of 
it 


Pry.  Colonel,  I  don't  understand.  There 
is  treason  and  a  plot  in  the  wind,  and  I 
came  like  a  good-natured  fool  as  I  am,  to 
put  you  on  your  guard.  But  there  is  no 
time  to  spare.  He  is  now  on  his  way 
hither. 

Hardy.  He  !  and  who  is  he  ?  and  what 
is  he? 

Pry.  An  impostor — an  adventurer — or 
something  of  that  mysterious  nature.  A 
travelling  gentleman,  as  he  calls  himself. 
He  has  just  arrived,  and  luckily  for  you, 
I  have  wormed  his  intentions  out  of  him. 

Hardy.  Well,  well,  and  what  are  his 
intentions? 

Pry.  To  get  iuto  your  house  under  pre- 
tence of  seeing  your  pictures — looking  at 
your  grounds — 

Hardy.  [Aside.]  That's  my  man.  Well, 
and  what  is  there  so  extraordinary  in 
that? 

Pry.  Oh,  nothing.  But  when  a  man 
talks  about  the  object  of  his  visit  requir- 
ing the  utmost  secrecy  and  caution — when 
he  asks  suspicious  questions — 

Hardy.  What  do  you  call  suspicious 
questions  ? 

Pry.  First,  he  asked  me  whether  you 
are  of  a  hospitable  turn,  which  I  take  to 
be  very  suspicious.  If  you  had  but  seen 
him  when  I  told  him  of  the  arrival  of 
your  nephew,  Mr.  Frank  ;  he  staggered — 
absolutely  staggered. — "  What  his  ne- 
phew !"  says  he,  "  Frank  Hardy !" 

Eliza.  [  To  STANLEY.]  Surely  this  must 
be  my  cousin  Frank. 

Harry.  I'll  away,  and  prepare  him. 

Phebe.  No,  leave  that  to  me.  My  ab- 
sence will  not  be  remarked.  [Exit. 

Hardy.  Pray,  did  he  mention  his  name  ? 

Pry.  Name?  Bless  you,  these  fellows 
have  a  name  for  every  town  in  the  king- 
dom. He  calls  himself  Snooks-^but  Lord 
bless  you — 

Hardy.  [Aside.]  The  cautious  rogue 
But  I'll  be  even  with  him.  No  no,  it 
isn't  my  pictures  he  comes  to  see. 

Pry.  You  may  well  say  that — [Aside.^ 
This  time,  however,  he  will  acknowledge 
bis  obligations  to  me. 

Hardy.  Now,  Mr.  Pry,  it  is  proper  I 
should  tell  you,  that  I  was  already  pre- 
pared for  this  visit.  I  know  who  the  per- 
son is,  and  have  most  serious  reasons  for 
lumouring  his  frolic.  I  know  you  to  be 
a  busy,  meddling,  talkative  person,  and 
herefore  warn  you,  that  if  you  breathe 
a  hint  of  having  put  me  on  my  guard,  at 


*92 


PAUL  PRY. 


you  call  it — you  know  me,  so  I  need  say 
no  more. 

Pry.  Well,  between  the  two — Colonel 
Hardy,  you  are  a  magistrate  and  I — I 
haven't  a  shilling  about  me,  or  I'd  make 
oath  in  your  presence  never  to  do  a  good- 
natured  thing  again  whilst  I  live.  [Exit. 

Harry.  [Aside.]  If  I  could  but  see  him. 
Hadn't  I  better  go  and  inquire  into  the 
truth  of  this,  sir  ?  That  blundering  booby 
confuses  every  thing. 

Hardy.  No,  sir,  you  will  please  stay 
where  you  are.  [Grosses  to  ELIZA.]  This 
is  he,  my  love — this  Mr.  Snooks,  as  he  calls 
himself,  is  the  person  you  are  to  marry. 

Jbliza.  Oh,  papa,  and  would  you  have 
me  marry  a  man  with  such  a  name?  I 
could  not  if  he  were  a  lord. 

Hardy.  No,  my  dear,  no — that  is  not 
his  name.  I  may  tell  you  now — his  name 
is— no,  I  won't.  His  project  in  this  in- 
cognito, and  mine  in  humouring  it,  might 
both  be  defeated,  by  your  inadvertently 
naming  him — so  'tis  safe  as  it  is.  [  To  him- 
telf.]  But  I  forget  my  prisoners.  Frank, 
I  have  business  that  will  occupy  me  for  a 
few  minutes  in  my  study.  Should  this 
gentleman  arrive  before  my  return,  you, 
as  my  nephew,  will  do  the  honours  for  me ; 
and  you,  my  little  darling,  will  remember, 
that  as  he  is  your  intended  husband,  you 
must  endeavour — but  I  need  say  no  more; 
that  hint  is  always  sufficient  to  put  a  wo- 
man to  her  sweetest  looks  and  best  be- 
haviour. [Exit. 

Harry.  I  am  in  a  pleasant  dilemma 
here.  Should  this  be  Frank,  I  must  cease 
to  act  your  cousin.  Should  it  be  the  per- 
son your  father  expects,  good  bye  to  my 
hopes  of  becoming  your  husband. 

Enter  PHEBB. 

Phebe.  Where  is  the  Colonel? 

Harry.  In  his  study. 

Phebe.  'TisMr.  Frank  himself.  But  be 
not  alarmed,  I  have  prepared  him  by  a 
hasty  narrative  of  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  he  has  promised  to  make  one  of 
our  party.  You  may  come  in,  sir. 

Enter  FRANK  HARDY. 

Prank.  My  dear  cousin  I  [Embracet 
ELIZA.]  What,  Harry,  my  old  shipmate  ? 

Eliza.  And  is  this  my  little  cousin 
Frank  ?  How  much  he  has  grown  since 
he  was  a  little  boy ! 

Frank.  We  are  both  somewhat  changed. 
I  left  home  a  boy,  and  returned  a  man.  I 


left  you  playing  with  a  doll,  and  find  you 
maneuvering  for  a  husband.  This  pretty 
maid  has  informed  me  of  your  proceed- 
ings. But  pray,  my  dear  fellow,  does  it 
occur  to  you  that  we  are  in  a  devil  of  a 
scrape  here  ? 

Harry.  And  pray,  my  dear  fellow,  does 
it  occur  to  you  how  I  am  to  get  out  of  it? 

frank.  [Pointing  to  the  window.]  That 
seems  the  shortest  way. 

Harry.  That  way  led  me  into  it,  and  I 
never  take  the  same  road  twice. 

Frank.  But  since  my  uncle  doesn't  ex- 
pect two  nephews,  one  of  us  must  abdicate. 

Phebe.  I  Lope  you  didn't  come  all  the 
way  from  the  antipodes  to  tell  us  that,  sir. 
That — must  be  the  end  of  it,  we  know  : 
but  if  you  were  at  all  acquainted  with  your 
uncle's  character,  you  would  conceive  that 
there  might  be  some  danger  in  an  abrupt 
disclosure  of  the  deception  we  have  been 
forced  to  put  upon  him. 

Frank.  How  forced  ? 

Phebe.  Why,  as  I  told  you  by  the  way, 
sir,  to  prevent  lord  knows  what  mischief. 

Frank.  Harkye,  you  and  I  are  old 
friends ;  you  love  my  cousin,  she  loves  you, 
and  if  my  assistance  is  likely  to  promote 
your  union,  you  may  command  it.  Would 
your  father  consent  to  it? 

Harry.  I  doubt  that,  for  he  has  a  scheme 
of  his  own  for  my  marriage.  So  my  no- 
tion is  to  marry  first,  and  ask  his  consent 
afterwards. 

Eliza.  Stop,  I  have  an  idea. 

Phebe.  [Aside.]  At  last !  If  it  be  really 
an  idea,  she  never  came  honestly  by  it — 
Hush !  I  tremble  at  every  sound.  I'll  go 
and  see  what  it  is.  [Exit. 

Harry.  Now  for  your  idea. 

Eliza.  I  dread  my  'pa's  anger,  and  dare 
not  see  him  till  he  is  pacified.  Now  if 
Harry  were  to  force  me  to  run  away  with 
him,  whilst  you — 

Frank.  That  is  a  step  I  wish  not  to 
sanction.  Be  prudent,  or  I  abandon  you. 
But  pray  tell,  since  I  am  not  to  be  myself, 
who  am  I  ? 

Harry.  Why  the  Colonel  expects  his 
protege.  He  believes  you  are  the  person 
and — Hush  !  he's  here. 

Frank.  That  will  never  do,  for  should 
he  really  arrive,  our  difficulty  would  be 
increased — and — 

Harry.  [Aside.]  I  long  to  throw  myself 
into  his  arms,  yet  dare  not. 

[They  retire. 


PAUL  PRY. 


393 


Enter  HAKDY. 

Hardy.  We  have  despatched  the  letter, 
and  if  that  fail  to  arouse  old  Witherton  to 
a  sense  of  his  humiliation — [Aside.]  ha, 
there  he  is.  Now  I'll  teach  him  to  come 
here  and  take  my  whole  family  as  it  were 
on  trial.  [FRANK  advances.]  I  believe 
I  have  the  honour  of  addressing  the 
travelling  gentleman  who  has  expressed 
a  desire  to  see  my  pictures. 

Frank.  Sir — I 

Hardy.  Sir,  I  entreat  you  will  use  no 
ceremony  —  visit  my  grounds — examine 
my  furniture — settle  your  opinion  upon 
every  thing  and  every  body  in  my  house. 
— This  is  my  daughter.  [Takes  her  by  the 
hand.]  My  daughter,  sir — you  understand. 
I  hope  you  like  her.  This  is  my  nephew, 
Frank.  What  is  your  opinion  of  him ! 
How  d'ye  like  me  ? 

Frank.  So  well,  sir,  that  if  I  were  to 
choose  an  uncle  for  myself,  you  would  be 
the  very  man. 

Hardy.  Well,  that's  one  point  in  our 
favour.  But  we  have  not  done  yet— my 
dinners — my  wines — it  is  important  that 
those  should  be  to  your  satisfaction,  young 
gentleman ; — so  I  shall  request  the  satis- 
faction of  your  company  at  dinner  to-day. 

Frank.  Ay,  sir,  and  to-morrow,  and 
every  day  for  a  month  to  come,  if  you 
please. 

Hardy.  And  if  any  thing  in  my  house, 
dead  or  alive,  should  displease  you, 
you  understand — pray  use  no  ceremony 
in  mentioning  it. 

Frank.  {Aside.}  What  the  deuce  does 
he  mean?  Sir,  I  assure  you  that  every 
thing  here  is  perfectly  to  my  taste. 

Hardy.  If  not,  Mr.  Snooks  has  but  to 
gallop  to  town  again,  and  no  party  you 
understand  is  compromised  by  his  visit. 

Frank.  Upon  my  soul,  sir,  I  do  not 
understand — but  Snooks— oh,  I  perceive 
the  chattering  fellow  I  met  at  the  inn,  has 
spoken  to  you  about  me,  and  be  hanged  to 
him. 

Hardy.  No  matter,  sir,  I  am  very  proud 
of  the  honour  you  intend  me,  and  let  that 
suffice. 

Harry.  [Aside  to  Frank.}  Don't  con- 
tradict him,  or  he'll  talk  for  a  month. 

Hardy.  And  now,  sir,  that  no  time  may 
be  lost,  suppose  you  commence  your  in- 
spection at  once  by  a  ramble  about  my 
grounds.  If  you  please,  my  daughter  shall 
accompany  you :  but  if  that  is  in  the  least 
disagreeable,  pray  say  so. 


Harry.  [To  ELIZA.]  Come,  and  thank 
heaven  for  this  respite. 

Hardy.  What  the  deuce  Frank — [Separ- 
ates them.]  Do  the  civil  thing  to  the 
travelling  gentleman.  Will  it  be  in  any 
|  way  disagreeable  to  you,  sir,  to  give  my 
daughter  your  arm  ? 

Frank.  Let  this  attest,  that  it  is  the  most 
agreeable  thing  you  could  have  proposed 
to  me,  sir. 

Hardy.  [Aside.]  I  am  sorry  it  is  so.  I 
almost  wish  he  had  disliked  her,  that  hia 
marriage  might  have  been  a  punishment 
to  him  for  presuming  to  have  a  choice  of 
his  own.  But  his  father  will  soon  be  here 
— and  then 

Enter  PHEBE,  with  a  key. 

Well,  what  is  the  matter  with  you? 
What  has  alarmed  you?  Is  the  house  on 
fire  ?  Why  don't  yoa  answer? 

Phebe.  Alarmed !  no,  sir,  I  am  not 
alarmed ;  but  Grasp,  Mr.  Witherton's 
steward,  wishes  to  see  you — and  running 
to  tell  you  has  taken  my  breath  away, 
that's  all,  sir. 

Hardy.  So,  the  letter  has  produced  its 
effect,  I  imagine. 

Phebe.  He  seems  in  a  violent  rage,  so 
pray  go  to  him,  sir,  go. 

Hardy.  Well,  why  need  you  be  so 
alarmed  about  it?  But  you  have  nerves,  I 
suppose.  Ah,  the  luxury  and  refinement 
of  the  times  !  Here's  a  chambermaid  sent 
into  the  world  with  as  fine  a  set  of  nerves 
as  a  duchess.  I'll  go  to  the  man.  You'll 
excuse  me  for  a  short  time,  Mr.  travelling 
gentleman ;  Frank  and  my  daughter  will 
supply  my  place.  [Exit. 

Eliza.  Phebe,  what  are  you  so  flurried 
about?  Is  it  really  Mr.  Grasp,  or  have 
you  deceived  my  'pa  ? 

Phebe.  No,  Miss,  no,  that's  true  enough 
— but  I  wish  it  were  the  whole  truth. 
He's  come  at  last  and  I  have  him  under 
lock  and  key. 

Eliza.  Who,  the  young  man  ? 

Phebe.  Young !  why,  Miss,  he's  fifty. 

Harry.  You  have  mistaken  the  person, 
then ;  'tis  a  young  man  the  Colonel  ex- 
pects. 

fcr  Phebe.  The  Colonel  speaks  of  him  as 
he  was,  when  they  were  associates,  with- 
out considering  how  many  years  have 
passed  since.  I  am  certain  'tis  he,  for  he 
asked  to  see  the  bride — that  was  enough 
for  me.  I  thrust  him  into  the  breakfast 
parlour,  and  locked  the  door.  Here,  take 


394 


PAUL  PRY. 


the  key,  and  settle  your  matters  as  best 
you  may. 

Harry.  They'll  be  easily  settled ;  [Takes 
the  key^\  I  have  but  one  way  of  treating 
with  a  rival.  Either  he  must  relinquish 
his  claim,  or  I  shall  leave  the  point  to  be 
argued  by  a  brace  of  the  most  persuasive 
tongues  of  any  in  the  kingdom.  Come 
with  me,  Frank. 

Frank.  Hold,  you  have  chosen  to  be  my 
representative  with  my  uncle,  I  shall 
therefore  take  your  place  with  your  rival, 
and  try  what  may  be  done  by  more  tem- 
perate measures.  Come,  come,  Harry, 
stay  where  you  are.  You  are  too  deeply 
interested  in  the  issue  to  be  as  cool  as 
circumstances  may  require ;  so  leave  the 
interview  entirely  to  me. 

Harry.  On  one  condition,  I  will ;  that 
if  you  do  not  succeed  in  persuading  "him 
to  abandon  the  engagement  he  is  under 
with  your  uncle,  you  will  then  turn  my 
gentleman  over  to  my  care,  and  I  warrant 
you 

Frank.  Say  no  more,  'tis  granted.  Come, 
Phebe,  show  me  to  the  dragon  I  am  to 
vanquish. 

Eliza.  And  tell  him,  Frank,  that  I  can 
never  love  him — that  we  shall  never  be 
happy  together — and  that  though  I  may 
be  obliged  to  marry  him  to  please  my 
'pa,  I  shall  never  do  any  thing  to  please 
him. 

\Exeunt  HABBY  and  ELIZA — FRANK. 

Phebe.  Well,  when  I  marry,  I'll  not 
leave  the  choice  of  a  partner  to  the  Col- 
onel. The  man  would  be  well  enough  for 
a  grandfather,  but  for  a  husband — Miss 
Simpleton  has  entered  much  better  for 
herself.  Her  Harry  is  a  dashing  fellow, 
that's  the  truth  on't.  Here  are  some 
verses  he  just  slipped  into  my  hand. 
[Reads.]  Well,  his  compliment  is  pretty 
enough,  but  I  can't  say  much  for  its 
novelty.  He  compares  my  lips  to  cher- 
ries. Whilst  Mr.  Frank  is  gone  for  the 
letter,  I'll  get  them  by  heart.  [Exit. 

SCENE  III. — At  WITHERTON'S — Enter 

WITHERTON. 

With.  Marry! — at  the  very  sound  I 
feel  myseif  a  happy  and  contented  man. 
Marry! — and  yet  at  my  age  'tis  a  step 
which  ought  not  to  be  inconsiderately 
taken.  Willis,  [Rings.]  his  advice  has 
served  me  on  more  than  one  occasion. 
Ah,  had  my  nephew  been  where  he  ought, 
I  had  not  needed  the  friendship  of  a 


X  At*. 

stranger;  but  that  young  man  shall  sup- 
ply his  place. 

Enter  SERVANT  with  a  letter. 

Desire  Mr.  Willis  to  come  to  me. 

Serv.  Mr.  Willis  is  gone,  sir — and  here 
is  a  letter  for  you,  sir.  [Exit. 

With.  Gone!  what  does  he  mean? 
[Opens  the  letter.]  and  a  letter  from  Mar- 
ian. [Read*  hastily.]  What  do  I  read  ? 
"  Mrs.  Subtle's  tyranny,  her  overbearing 
insolence — unable  any  longer  to  endure 
it— by  at  once  quitting  your  house,  and 
relinquishing  your  protection,  and  'tis 
with  unfeigned  sorrow  and  regret  I  do  so, 
I  am  but  anticipating  my  intended  dis- 
missal. Willis,  for  reasons  which  you 
shall  know  hereafter,  has  resolved  to  ac- 
company me." — Marian!  Marian!  my 
poor  Marian  !  Driven  from  my  house — 
Willis  too.  Does  she  already  so  pre- 
sume ?  I  see  my  conduct  now  must  de- 
termine the  character  I  am  to  maintain 
hereafter.  I  must  teach  her  that  I  can 
be  master  or  sink  for  ever  into  the  abject 
slave. 

Enter  MRS.  SUBTLE. 

Mrs.  S.  The  papers  are  destroyed — and 
now — 

With.  So,  Mrs.  Subtle,  where  is  Mar- 
ian ?  where  is  Willis  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Gone  I 

With.  By  whose  authority  are  they  dis- 
missed? yours? 

Mrs.  S.  [Astonished  at  his  authoritative 
tone.]  Why,  how  is  this  ?  Rebellion  ? 

With.  Have  you  done  this,  I  say  ? 

Mrs.  S.  No.  And  if  I  had,  give  me 
leave  to  say,  sir 

With.  I  perceive  your  error :  let  me  cor- 
rect it  while  there  is  yet  time.  He  that 
has  occasionally  endured  the  control  of  a 
servant,  may  yet  revolt  at  the  dominion  of 
a  wife.  Remember,  besides,  you  assume 
the  mistress  somewhat  prematurely.  Let 
Willis  and  Marian  be  recalled. 

Mrs.  S.  [Aside.]  Is  this  possible?  I 
know  not  where  they  are,  sir. 

With.  Restore  them  to  my  house,  or 

Mrs.  S.  Or  you  would  have  me  quit  it. 

With.  I  said  not  so. 

Mrs.  S.  [In  tears.]  I  deserve  this.  Oh, 
woman  !  would  you  make  a  man  your  ty- 
rant, you  need  but  avow  to  him  that  you 
love.  'Tis  clear  you  wish  me  gone. 

With.  No,  Mrs.  Subtle,  no — but  let  them 
be  recalled. 

Mrs.S.  They  shall  be  sought  after.  But 


PAUL  PRY. 


395 


was  this  well  ?  do  I  deserve  this  unkind- 
ness  ?  Marian  is  young  and  handsome ; 
and  if  her  presence  here  displeased  me, 
could  you  divine  no  excusable  motive  for 
my  displeasure  ? 

With.  Well,  dear  Mrs.  Subtle,  say  no 
more.  I  was  perhaps  too  hasty.  Ah,  here 
comes  Hardy. 

Enter  HARDY. 

Hardy.  So,  what  is  this  I  hear?  You 
have  dismissed  Willis — poor  Marian  too — 
those  whom  I  recommended  to  your  care. 

With.  Well,  well,  and  were  it  so,  am  I 
not  master  in  my  own  house? 

Hardy.  No,  there's  the  master  of  you, 
and  your  house  too.  But  I'm  aware  of 
your  intentions.  Marry  your  housekeeper ! 
How  old  are  you?  Are  you  out  of  your 
teens  ?  You  have  long  since  arrived  at  the 
age  of  maturity,  we'll  say  nothing  about 
years  of  discretion. 

With.  Colonel,  this  is  my  house. 

Hardy.  I  understand — and  when  I  have 
performed  my  errand,  I'll  leave  you  to  the 
full  enjoyment  of  it.  If  you  marry,  what 
is  to  become  of  your  nephew  ?  Though 
when  the  settlements  are  drawn,  I  dare  say 
Mrs.  Subtle  will  take  care  the  poor  fellow 
shall  be  amply  provided — for  [To  her.] 
you  always  have  been  the  friend  of  poor 
sinners,  you  know. 

Mrs.  S.  [Aside.]  Ah,  is  he  there? 

With.  Provide  for  him !  I'll  cut  him 
off  with  a  shilling. 

Hardy.  Do  what?  Do  you  know  the 
meaning  of  that  trivial,  dreadful  phrase? 
Would  you  carry  your  resentment  beyond 
the  grave?  A'n't  you  satisfied  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  revenge  {is  long  as  you  live  ? 
Surely  that  is  long  enough  for  the  best— 
for  the  worst  of  us.  When  we  die,  'tis 
time  our  resentment  should  expire  too. 

With.  You  will  be  silent  on  the  subject 
of  my  nephew,  if  you  wish  to  preserve  my 
friendship. 

Hardy.  Tis  to  render  you  worthy  of 
mine,  that  I  speak.  But  this  is  no  time 
for  ceremony  ;  your  eyes  must  be  opened. 
Here,  Grasp. 

Enter  GRASP. 

You  have  for  years  been  the  dupe  of  this 
precious  pair — poor  Somers  traduced — his 
letters — yours  suppressed — falsified.  This 
honest  gentleman,  doubtful  of  being  able 
to  persuade  you  of  the  truth  of  his  con- 
fession, has  taken  the  surer  way  of  making 
it  to  me. 


With.  I  was  already  prepared  for  some- 
thing of  this  nature,  but  he  has  deceived 
you ;  his  motives  are  not  unknown  to  me. 

Mrs.  S.  Let  him  speak,  sir.  What  in- 
trigues he  may  have  carried  on  against 
your  nephew,  I  know  not.  Whatever  he 
would  charge  upon  me,  he  must  prove. 
His  word,  under  present  circumstances,  is 
as  nothing. 

Hardy.  I  would  give  as  little  for  the 
fellow's  word  as  you  would,  who  seems  to 
know  its  great  value.  So,  come,  sir,  to  the 
proofs  you  told  me  of. 

Mrs.  S.  Ay,  now — villain  ! 

Grasp.  Aye,  now  you  shall  feel  what  it 
is  to  make  a  dupe  of  me.  [Exit. 

Hardy.  Now  when  your  eyes  are  opened, 

Eerhaps  you  will  have  no  objection  to  ac- 
nowledge  that  you  perceive  the  light  of 
the  sun. 

With.  'Tis  a  wicked  imposture  of  his — 
the  petty  revenge  of  disappointed  hope. 
Mrs.  S.  Let  them  proceed,  sir. 

Re-enter  GRASP. 

Grasp.  They  are  stolen — I  am  robbed. 
[  To  MRS.  SUBTLE.]  'Tis  you  have  done 
this. 

With.  What  say  you  ? 

Mrs^  S.  This  is  too  stale  a  device. 

Grasp.  [  To  HARDY.]  The  papers  I  told 
you  of — 'twas  but  this  morning  I  saw  them 
there — my  desk  has  been  opened — You, 
[To  MRS.  SUBTLE]  you  alone  had  a  mo- 
tive for  doing  this. 

With.  The  trick  is  evident.  Deliver  up 
your  keys,  and  quit  my  house. 

Hardy.  There  can  be  no  objection  to 
that.  There  will  be  one  rogue  the  fewer 
in  it.  [  To  GRASP.]  Do  you  persist  in  the 
truth  of  the  disclosure  you  made  to  me? 

Grasp.  It  matters  not.  You  see  which 
way  the  wind  blows.  'Tis  clear,  whatever 
may  happen,  I  can  no  longer  remain  here. 
[TbWiTHERTON.]  Your  blind  folly  de- 
serves a  bitter  punishment — marry  her. 

[Exit. 

Hardy.  [  To  MRS.  SUBTLE.]  Now  I  dare 
say  you  consider  this  a  triumph,  but  I 
have  yet 

Mrs.  S.  Mr.  Witherton,  what  further 
insult  am  I  to  receive  at  the  hands  of  this 
gentleman  ? 

Hardy.  Hey-day ! 

With.  Colonel  Hardy,  I  beg  you  will 
recollect  that  this  lady  is  to  become- 

Hardy.  Ladyl  Well,  then,  my  lady 
pickle  and  preserve,  since  it  must  be  MX 


896 


PAUL  PEY. 


With.  Sir,  the  attempts  to  disgrace  her 
in  my  esteem,  though  I  doubt  not  ingeni- 
ously concerted,  have  failed.  It  remains 
with  you  to  determine  by  your  conduct 
towards  her,  whether  I  am  to  continue 
your  friend. 

Hardy.  My  determination  is  taken. 
Good  morning  to  you.  I  had  prepared  a 
surprise  for  you,  which  would  have  ren- 
dered you  a  happy  man  for  life.  You  shall 
not  enjoy  it,  till  you  know  better  how  to 
deserve  it.  Good  day. 

Enter  PAUL  PEY. 

Pry.  I  hope  I  don't  intrude. 

Hardy.  You  have  just  dropt  in  to  wish 
the  young  couple  joy,  I  suppose  ? 

Pry.  I  come  to  wish  Mrs.  Subtle  joy. 
You  must  have  been  dreadfully  alarmed 
when  you  discovered  your  loss. 

Mrs.  S.  What  loss— what? 

Pry.  I  saw  you  drop  them,  and  called 
after  you,  but  you  didn't  hear  me. 

Mrs.  S.  What  are  you  speaking  of? 

Pry.  Poor  Mrs.  Subtle,  thought  I,  if 
these  had  been  her  own,  it  wouldn't  so 
much  have  grieved  her ;  but  to  lose  a 
packet  belonging  to  her  master 

Hardy.  Eh,  what's  that  ?  Papers  ? 

Pry.  A  heavy  package  she  let  fall  into 
the  dry  well,  up  yonder.  It  took  me  nearly 
half  an  hour  to  hook  them  out  again — and 
here  they  are. 

Mrs.  S.  [About  to  seize  them.]  They  are 
mine. 

Hardy.  [Seizing  them.]  By  your  leave. 
So,  so,  this  confirms  the  truth  of  Grasp's 
story.  [Looking  at  them,  and  giving  them 
one  by  one  to  WITHERTON.]  Will  this 
convince  you — or  this — or  this  ? 

Mrs.  S.  The  scheme  I  have  for  years 
been  framing,  in  a  moment  destroyed  by 
an  officious  fool. 

With.  May  I  believe  my  eyes  ?  The 
letter  desiring  my  nephew  to  hasten  to 
England,  suppressed.  And  here — [Heads.] 
"  Again  I  write  to  you,  my  dear  uncle,  to 
implore  your  consent  to  my  marriage." 
And  here  he  entreats  permission  to  see 
me.  What  say  you  to  this,  Mrs.  Sub- 
tle? 

Mrs.  S.  I  scorn  to  reply.  If  you  believe 
me  implicated  in  these  intrigues — if  you 
have  so  lost  your  confidence  in  my  truth 
and  honesty  towards  you,  bid  me  at  once 
begone.  In  your  solitude,  your  desolate 
solitude,  you  will  find  leisure  to  repent 
your  injustice,  and 


With.  Say  but  you  are  innocent  in  an> 
participation  in  this,  and 

Hardy.  Say  it !  Confound  her,  she'll 
say  it,  and  swear  it  too.  But  are  you  so 
blind  as  not  to  perceive  the  drift  of  her 
artful  speech?  Why  need  you  be  desolate? 
why  need  you  be  solitary  ?  It  has  been 
her  wicked  policy  to  render  you  so.  Re- 
call the  friends  whom  nature  has  provided 
for  you.  If  you  won't,  I  will ;  and  if  you 
don't  like  them — give  them  over  to  me. 

With.  What  mean  you  ? 

Hardy.  To  restore  an  injured  nephew 
to  you  ;  and  if  Somers  and  his  wife  have 
suffered  through  the  calumnies  this  good 
lady  has  heaped  upon  them,  your  own 
judgment  has  done  them  right  in  its  true 
estimate  of  the  virtues  of  Willis  and  Mar- 
ian. Come  in. 

Enter  WILLIS  and  MARIAN. 

I  hate  the  parade  of  sentiment.  There 
they  are,  so  take  them  at  once  to  your 
heart.  They  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of,  except  having  ::n  old  fool  for  an  uncle. 
[WILLIS  and  AlAKlAN  throw  them- 
selves at  WiTKERTON's/ee<. 

With.  No,  not  there — not  there.  [Rises 
and  clasps  them  in  his  arms.]  To  what 
vile  treachery  have  I  been  subjected? 
Mrs.  Subtle,  you  may  perceive  that  your 
presence  here  is  no  longer  desirable. 

Mrs.  S.  Think  not  I  desire  to  remain ; 
and  if  I  feel  a  pang  at  parting  with  you, 
it  is  at  the  reflection  that  a  few  hours 
more  would  have  made  me  mistress  of 
that  fortune,  which  now — may  it  carry 
misery  wherever  it  is  bestowed.  [Exit. 

Hardy.  There !  If  you  could  entertain 
the  slightest  regret  at  the  departure  of 
that  good  lady,  I  trust  that  her  farewell 
speech  will  serve  to  extinguish  it. 

Pry.  [To  HARDY.]  'Tis  best  for  him 
as  it  is.  He'd  have  caught  a  tartar ;  be- 
sides he  can  be  no  chicken.  Now  what 
age  would  you  take  him  to  be? 

Hardy.  At  a  random  guess,  turned  of 
twenty.  Give  me  your  hand.  [TbWlTH- 
ERTON.]  I  congratulate  you  on  your  ac- 
cession to  your  senses.  I  am  happy  in 
what  I  have  done  here.  I  feel  in  good 
humour  with  myself,  and  every  body  else. 
Will  no  one  ask  a  favour,  that  I  may  en- 
joy the  pleasure  of  granting  it  ?  Will  no 
one  offend  me,  to  afford  me  the  gratifica- 
tion of  forgiving  him  ? 


PAUL  PRY. 


39? 


Enter  FRANK  HARDY. 

Frank.  If  you  are  in  that  mood,  sir,  I 
can  furnish  you  with  employment. 

Hardy.  So,  Mr.  Snooks,  is  it  you?  [To 
WITHERTON.]  The  son  of  our  old  friend 
Stanley,  with  whom  you  and  I  have 
cracked  many  a  bottle  in  our  young  days. 
He  thinks  I  don't  know  him. 

Pry.  The  travelling  gentleman. 

Hardy.  [To  FRANK.]  Then  you  intend 
to  confess  who  you  are,  and  trust  to  my 
mercy  ?  But  I  knew  you  from  the  first. 
I  was  apprised  of  your  runaway  freak, 
and  was  resolved  to  humour  it. 

Frank.  Pray,  sir,  read  this  letter. 

[  Gives  a  letter. 

Hardy.  "  Archibald  Stanley  "—a  letter 
from  his  father. 

Pry.  A  pass  to  the  next  parish,  I  sup- 
pose. 

Hardy.  What  the  deuce  I  break  off  his 
engagement  with  me ;  and  has  he  encour- 
aged you  in  this? 

Frank.  Upon  my  word,  sir,  he  is  a  very 
rational  old  gentleman,  and  made  no  sort 
of  scruple  in  relinquishing  his  share  in 
the  treaty. 

Hardy.  So  then  it  appears  that  my 
daughter  is  not  agreeable  to  you,  and 
your  father  is  mad  enough  to 

Frank.  My  father,  sir  1 

Hardy.  Aye,  sir,  and  I  consider  the 
conduct  of  old  Mr.  Stanley  in  this  affair 


Frank.  One  word,  sir.  Is  the  gentle- 
man I  have  just  seen,  old  Mr.  Stanley, 
the  father  of  Harry  Stanley  ? 

Hardy.  Why  this  is  stretching  the 
proverb  with  a  vengeance ;  and  do  you 
pretend  that  you  did  not  know  your  own 
father  ? 

Frank.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  So  then  Harry 
Stanley  is  the  person  you  have  all  along 
intended  for  your  son-in-law  ? 

Hardy.  Why  who  the  devil  else  do 
you  think  it  was  ?  Sir,  do  you  persist  in 
refusing  my  daughter  ? 

Frank.  I  do,  sir.  Yet,  nevertheless 
your  own  intentions  will  "be  fulfilled. 

Enter  SERVANT. 

Serv.  [To  WITHERTON.]  Mr.  Stanley, 
air. 

Frank.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  foresee  a  warm 
explanation  here. 

Enter  STANLEY. 
Stan.    [Crosses  to  WITHERTON.]    Ah, 


my  old  friend !  I  have  made  a  fruitless 
journey  down  to  this  place,  but  I  would 
not  return  to  town,  without  shaking  you 
by  the  hand.  What,  Hardy  1  I  had  re- 
solved not  to  see  you,  but  since  we  have 
met,  your  hand.  Your  daughter  may  be 
all  the  happier  for  the  exchange. 

Hardy.  So  then  you  countenance  your 
son  in  his  refusal  ?  You  allow  him  to 
come  here,  look  at  my  daughter,  turn  up 
his  cursed  impudent  nose  at  her,  and  cool- 
ly march  oft'  again. 

Stan.  What,  and  has  my  Hal  been  here? 
What  has  become  of  him  ? 

Hardy.  Why,  don't  you  see  him  before 
you  ?  Turn  about,  you  dog.  [  To  FRANK.] 

Stan.  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  He's  no  son  of 
mine. 

Hardy.  Tell  me,  if  that  is  not  your  son, 
pray  whose  son  is  he? 

Stan.  That's  more  than  I  can  say.  All 
I  know  about  him,  is  that  he  is  the  gen- 
tleman in  whose  favour  I  have  just  relin- 
quished my  boy's  claim  to  your  daughter. 

Hardy.  So,  sir,  you  have  dared  to  im- 
pose upon  me,  by  telling  me  that 

Frank.  You  wrong  me,  sir.  I  told  you 
nothing.  The  error  was  of  your  own 
creating. 

Pry.  There,  you  see,  I  was  right. 

Hardy.  Ay,  and  you  putting  me  on  my 
guard  has  led  to  this  misunderstanding. 
But  here  comes  my  nephew.  I  shall  leave 
it  to  him  to  revenge  this  affront. 

Enter  HARRY,  ELIZA,  and  PHEBE. 

With.  My  dear  friend,  be  temperate. 

Hardy.  For  all  misunderstanding,  that 
has  occurred  here,  sir,  I  alone  am — the 
devil,  my  father! 

Pry.  The  devil  his  father!  Well,  I 
thought  he  did  not  come  of  a  good  family, 
from  the  first  moment  I  saw  him. 

Stan.  Come  hither,  sir,  and  answer  your 
father. 

Hardy.  Listen  to  your  uncle,  I  say. 

Stan.  You  his  uncle!  Why  zounds,  are 
you  mad,  or  do  you  think  I  don't  know 
my  own  son  ? 

Hardy.  There  is  some  confounded  rogue- 
ry in  this.  If  one  of  these  is  not  your  son, 
and  the  other  an  impudent  rascal  of  a 
lover,  what  am  I  to  do  for  a  nephew  ? 

Phebe.  [Leading  FRANK  to  him.]  Fo? 
want  of  another,  take  this. 

Hardy.  I  begin  to  perceive.  So  then 
you  were  the  bird-catcher  after  all,  and 
were  already  acquainted  with  my  daugh- 


398 


HE  DIDN'T  KNOW  THE  COURT. 


ter.  And  pray,  Miss  Phebe,  how  did  you 
dare • 

Phebe.  Why,  sir,  if  hot-headed  gentle- 
men will  ask  questions  with  pistols  in  their 
hands,  what  is  one  to  do  ? 

With.  Come,  come,  say  no  more.  You 
have  your  own  way. 

Hardy.  True,  I  have  my  own  way,  but 
not  in  my  own  way  of  having  it.  Her 
obedience  is  not  quite  so  evident  in  this, 
as  I  could  have  desired ;  however,  there 

[Grosses  to  HARRY,  passes  him  over  to 
ELIZA,  and  joins  their  hands. 

There,  you  bird  catcher,  you.  You've 
caught  a  goldfinch. 

Eliza.  Thank  you,  'pa,  and  if  ever  I 
marry  again,  you  shall  have  the  choice  all 
your  own  way. 

Harry.  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  give  your 
'pa  an  opportunity  of  putting  your  obedi- 
ence to  the  test. 

Hardy.  Frank,  my  boy,  you  do  take 
after  the  family,  and  I  forgive  you  on  that 
account. 

Phebe.  I  hope,  sir,  you'll  forgive  me — 
if  not—  [Turns  to  WITHERTON.]  I  hear 
sir,  that  you  have  dismissed  your  house- 
keeper, and — [Curtsies.]  should  I  lose  my 
place  in  the  Colonel's  family 

With.  Ah,  my  dear,  you  are  too  young 
for  a  housekeeper,  and  I  have  abandoned 
my  intention  to  marry.  Celibacy  is  an 
error,  which  at  my  age  it  is  too  late  to  re- 
pair. I  have  been  foolish  enough  to  live 
single  all  my  life,  but  to  marry  now,  would 
be  but  to  exchange  a  great  folly  for  a 
greater.  In  this  is  now  my  refuge  for  life. 
[Taking  his  nephew's  and  MARIAN'S 
hand. 

Hardy.  All  you  that  are  single,  take 
warning  by  him,  and  marry  as  fast  as  you 
can. 

Pry.  [  To  PHEBE.]  A  broad  hint  to  you 
and  me,  Miss  Phebe. 

Phebe.  Lord  help  me.  You  are  too  in- 
quisitive for  a  husband. 

Pry.  Pooh,  pooh !  A  spirit  of  inquiry 
is  the  great  characteristic  of  the  age  we 
live  in. 

Hardy.  It  is  a  spirit  which  now  and 
then  leads  you  to  fish  in  troubled  waters. 

Pry.  I  flatter  myself  I  have  fished  to 
some  purpose  to-day  though — the  papers, 
you  know. 

Hardy.  So  you  have ;  and  in  considera- 
tion of  that,  I  will  tolerate  you  for  the 
remainder  of  it.  You  shall  dine  with  me. 


Pry.  You'll  tolerate  me — no,  will  you? 
Well,  that's  very  polite,  and  I  accept  your 
invitation. 

Hardy.  But  if  you  dare  ask  a  single 
question,  even  what  it  is  o'clock,  I'll  toss 
you  out  of  the  window. 

Pry.  I  must  ask  one  question  more. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  I  am  not  im- 
pertinent, will  you,  will  you  overlook  the 
many  faults  of  Paul  Pry  ? 

THE  END  OF  PAUL  PRY. 


HE  DIDN'T  KNOW  THE  COURT. 

HOW  CHIEF    JUSTICE    WAITE  WAS  SNUBBED 
BY  A  RAILWAY  TICKET  AGENT. 

Chief  Justice  Waite,  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  had  a  funny  experience  the  other 
day,  and  as  he  has  related  it  to  any  num- 
ber of  friends,  the  story  has  had  a  wide 
circulation  in  society.  Several  weeks 
ago  he  had  an  imperative  engagement  in 
Baltimore.  Like  all  great  men  he  is  pro- 
verbially absent-minded.  He  went  up  to 
the  Court,  and  after  a  few  moments'  ses- 
sion adjourned  the  Court  and  came  down 
leisurely  to  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  De- 
pot, which  is  only  a  short  distance  from 
the  Capitol.  As  he  got  out  of  the  street- 
car he  found  he  had  ten  minutes  in  which 
to  purchase  a  ticket  and  get  a  seat  on  the 
train.  As  he  went  up  to  the  ticket  office 
he  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  had 
only  a  few  pennies  in  his  pocket.  He  had 
neglected  to  provide  himself  with  "  scrip 
for  his  journey."  He  looked  around  the 
waiting-room,  but  saw  no  one  he  knew. 
What  was  to  be  done  must  be  done 
quickly ;  his  engagement  was  an  impor- 
tant one.  So  he  filed  up  in  the  line  to 
the  ticket  office,  and  when  he  reached  the 
window  the  Chief  Justice  smiled  an  awful 
smile  across  the  full  width  of  his  ample 
mouth,  and  asked  the  ticket  agent  if  he 
knew  him. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  snarled  the  agent ;  "  and 
what  is  more  I  don't  want  to.  What  do 
you  want  ? " 

"I  want  a  ticket  to  Baltimore  and  re- 
turn. I  am  the  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  I  have  no  money 
with  me;  it  is  purely  accidental.  I  can 
give  you  my  personal  check." 

"Oh,  I  know  you.  I  know  all  the 
bloods,  but  that  dodge  won't  work«on  me. 


A  REPORT  FROM  BELOW. 


399 


I  have  just  had  two  members  of  the 
Cabinet  try  to  '  bilk  '  me  out  of  tickets, 
and  no  Chief  Justice  dodge  gets  me 
Take  your  ugly  mug  out  of  the  window, 
and  get  out  of  the  way  of  people  who  have 
money.1' 

The  Chief  Justice  glared.  He  could 
not  fine  the  young  man  for  contempt  of 
Court.  He  felt  cheaper  and  worse  than 
if  he  had  been  a  real  fraud.  He  blushed 
and  perspired  so  that  the  agent  had  his 
firm  belief  strengthened.  The  Chief  Jus- 
tice dashed  out  of  the  station  to  see  if  he 
could  not  find  some  one  to  identify  him. 
He  had  only  five  minutes  left.  It  was  too 
short  a  time  to  run  to  the  Capitol.  He 
saw  no  one.  Across  the  street  there  was 
a  saloon  and  eating-house.  The  Chief 
Justice  made  a  rush  across  the  road,  but 
he  stopped  at  the  door.  What  if  he 
should  be  seen  going  into  a  common  gin- 
mill  ?  What  would  people  say,  and  it 
was  a  bare  chance  if  any  one  in  there 
should  know  him  !  Spying  a  private 
entrance,  he  rushed  in  and  accosted  the 
proprietor  with  the  frantic  inquiry  of — 
"  Do  you  know  me  ?  '' 

"  Yes,  bet  yer  head,  I  do,  yer  honor," 
said  the  short-haired,  freckled-faced  man 
behind  the  bar.  "  Ye  are  the  boss  av  the 
Shuprame  Coort.  I  see  ye  every  day  go- 
ing by  here  on  the  cars." 

"  Will  you  cash  my  check  ?  I  have  no 
time  to  explain."  Here  the  Chief  Justice 
grabbed  a  piece  of  paper  upon  a  desk  near 
by  and  began  to  write  hurriedly. 

"  Shure  I  will.  I've  seen  ould  byes  off 
on  a  tear  before  get  out  of  money.  Trusht 
me,  sorr.  Is  it  a  twenty  ye  want?  Here 
it  is.  Will  ye  have  a  drop  before  ye 
run?" 

But,  before  any  further  explanation 
could  be  made,  the  Chief  Justice  had 
grabbed  the  money  and  was  running 
across  the  street.  In  some  way  the  ticket 
agent  had  learned  of  his  blunder  during 
the  Judge's  absence,  and  was  all  polite- 
ness when  he  saw  the  money.  Mr.  Waite 
barely  made  the  train,  but  he  has  not  had 
such  a  shock  to  his  dignity  since  he  went 
upon  the  bench  of  the  Supreme  Court. 


"MY  dear  doctor,"  said  an  Irishman, 
"  it's  no  use  your  giving  me  an  emetic. 
I  tried  it  twice  in  Dublin,  and  it  would 
»ot  stay  on  my  stomach  five  minutes." 


A  REPORT  FROM  BELOW. 

As  Mister  B.  and  Mistress  B. 

One  night  were  sitting  down  to  tea, 

With  toast  and  muffins  hot, 
They  heard  a  loud  and  sudden  bounce, 
That  made  the  very  china  flounce, 
They  could  not  for  a  time  pronounce 

If  they  were  safe  or  shot. 

Suppose  the  couple  standing  so, 
When  rushing  footsteps  from  below 

Made  pulses  fast  and  fervent ; 
And  first  burst  in  the  frantic  cat, 
All  steaming  like  a  brewer's  rat, 
And  then,  as  white  as  my  cravat, 

Poor  Mary  May,  the  servant. 

Lord  !  how  the  couple's  teeth  did  chatter, 
Master  and  mistress  both  flew  at  her. 
"  Speak  !  fire  ?  or  murder  ?  what's  the  mat- 
ter ?  " 

Till  Mary  getting  breath, 
Upon  her  tale  began  to  touch 
With  rapid  tongue,  full  trotting,  such 
As  if  she  thought  she  had  too  much 

To  tell  before  her  death  ! 

"  We  was  both,  ma'am,  in  the  wash-house, 

ma'am,  a  standing  at  our  tubs, 
And  Mrs.  Round  was  seconding  what  little 

things  I  rubs  ; 
'  Mary,'  says  she  to  me,  '  I  say,'  and  there 

she  stops  for  coaghin', 
'  That  dratted  copper  flue  has  took  a  smokin' 

very  often, 
But  please  the  pigs,'  for  that's  her  way  of 

swearing  in  a  passion, 
'  I'll  blow  it  up,  and  not  be  set  a  coughin'  in 

this  fashion  1 ' 
Well,  down  she  takes  my  master's  horn,  I 

mean  the  horn  for  loading, 
And  empties  every  grain  alive  for  to  set  the 

flue  exploding. 
'  Lawk,  Mrs.   Round ! '  says  I,  and   stares, 

'  that  quantum  is  unproper, 
I'm  sartin  sure  it  can't  not  take  a  pound  to 

sky  a  copper ; 
You'll  powder  both  our  heads  off,  so  I  tells 

you,  with  its  puff,' 
But  she  only  dried  her  fingers,  and  she  takes 

a  pinch  of  snuff. 
Well,  when  the  pinch  is  over,  '  Teach  your 

grandmother  to  suck 
A  powder-horn,'  says  she.     '  Well,'  says  I, 

'  I  wish  you  luck.' 


400 


A  REPORT  FROM  BELOW. 


Them  words  sets  up  her  back,  so  with  her 

hands  upon  her  hips, 
'  Come,'   says  she,  quite  in  a  huff,  '  come 

keep  your  tongue  inside  your  lips  ; 
Afore  ever  you    was  born,  I  was   used  to 

things  like  these ; 
I  shall  put  it  in  the  grate,  and  let  it  burn 

up  by  degrees. 
So  in  it  goes,  and  bounce,  0  Lord  !  it  gives 

us  such  a  rattle, 
I  thought  we  both  were  cannonized,  like 

sojers  in  a  battle  ! 
Up  goes  the  copper  like  a  squib,  and  us  on 

both  our  backs, 
And  bless  the  tubs,  they  bundled   off,  and 

split  all  into  cracks. 
Well,  then  I  fainted  dead  away,  and  might 

have  been  cut  shorter, 
But  Providence  was  kind,  and  brought  me 

to  with  scalding  water. 
I  first  looked   round   for  Mrs.  Round,  and 

sees  her  at  a  distance, 
As  stiff  as   starch,  and  looked  as  dead  as 

anything  in  existence ; 
All   scorched  and  grimed,  and  more  than 

that,  I  sees  the  copper  slap 
Bight  on  her  head,  for  all  the  world  like  a 

percussion  copper  cap. 
Well,  I  crooks  her  little  fingers,  and  crumps 

them  well  up  together, 
As  humanity  pints  out,  and  burnt  her  nos- 
trums with  a  feather : 
But  for  all  as  I  can  do,  to  restore  her  to 

mortality, 

She  never  gives  a  sign  of  a  return  to  sensu- 
ality. 


Thinks  I,  well  there  she  lies,  as  dead  as  ray 

own  late  departed  mother, 
Well,  she'll   wash  no  more   in  this  world, 

whatever  she  does  in  t'other. 
So  I  gives  myself  to  scramble  up  the  linens 

for  a  minute, 
Lawk,    sich  a  shirt!  thinks  I,  it's  well  my 

master  wasn't  in  it. 
0  !  I  never,  never,  never,  never,  never,  never, 

see  a  sight  so  shockin' ; 
Here  lay  a  leg,  and  there  a  leg,  I  mean,  you 

know,  a  stocking, 
Bodies  all  slit  and  torn  to  rags,  and  many  a 

tattered  skirt, 
And  arms  burnt  off,  and  sides  aud  backs  all 

scotched  and  black  with  dirt : 
But  as  nobody  was  in  'em — none  but — no- 
body was  hurt ! 
Well,  there  I  am,  a  scrambling  at  the  things, 

all  in  a  lump, 
When,  mercy  on  us  I  such  a  groan  makes 

my  heart  to  jump. 
And  there  she  is,  a-lying  with  a  crazy  sort 

of  eye, 
A-staring  at  the  wash-house  roof,  laid  open 

to  the  sky ; 
Then   she   beckons  with   a  finger,  and  so 

down  to  her  I  reaches, 
And  put  my  ear  to  her  mouth  to  hear  her 

dying  speeches, 
For  poor  soul !  she  has  a  husband  and  young 

orphans,  as  I  knew ; 
Well,  ma'am,  you  won't  believe  it,  but  it's 

Gospel  fact  and  true, 
But  these   words  is   all  she    whispered — 

"  Why,  where  is  the  powder  blew  ?  " 
THOMAS  HOOD. 


BND  OF  VOL.  II. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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